Turning the Tides
by Ardeth Saunders
Summary: A female detective makes Donovan's life hell when she suspects him of committing murder. [Pax and Donovan series]
1. Looks Can Be Deceiving

TITLE:  "Turning the Tides"

AUTHOR:  Ardeth Saunders

RATING:  R [Language, Violence, and Sexual Situations]

SUMMARY:  A female detective makes Donovan's life hell when she suspects him of committing murder.  [Sequel to "Mission:  Aggravation," "Thorn In His Side," "Back For More," "The Long Road," and "It's All In Print."]

DISCLAIMER:  _UC:  Undercover _and its cast of characters belong to the writers, creators, NBC, and a dozen others.  NO infringement intended.  All other characters are original and belong solely to the vivid, sick, and twisted imagination of the author.

*  *  *

LOOKS CAN BE DECEIVING

Donovan smiled down at Pax.  She was wrapped up in the covers and had put her pillow over her head.  She moaned and groaned as her ignorant ass lover pushed and prodded her out of bed.  This was her damn vacation for Pete's sake and she deserved to sleep late.  Damn prick.  Days like these made her wonder why she loved his ass at all.  When his prodding and poking failed, he climbed onto the bed, halfway settling his body over hers.  Jesus, he weighed a ton!  He took hold of the pillow and drew it away from her head.  She covered her face with her arms and moaned again.  Hell no.  He would have to pick her up and throw her in the shower.  Of course, he wasn't adverse to that idea.  He'd done it a thousand times before, hadn't he?  It was one idea she seemed to like a lot, too.  Hmmm.  Maybe she should roll over and let him pick her up.  

"Why do you care if I'm awake," she groaned.  "You don't need me to be around you all damn day, do you?"

"Yes, Jonella," he said as he kissed her head.  "I have a few rare days off and I'd like to spend them out of this damn apartment.  Come on; get out of bed.  I promised Stasia I'd take her to the park, and we both want you to come along."

It had been a couple of months since Pax moved in with Donovan and she was still on shaky terms with his daughter.  Their tentative relationship had grown a little better and it didn't seem to freak Pax out to hold her or even give her a hug without first being asked.  The kid was nothing like her mother, praise Jesus, and Pax was okay with that.  It was difficult, but getting easier by the day.  She had even begun to call Pax something different than 'Spoon Lady.'  She couldn't quite say Jonella yet, but she managed something that made a nodding acquaintance to 'Donnie.'  _Gawd, yet one more fucking nickname to add to the list_.  Of course, Donovan's ex still didn't quite know how to react to the relationship or the engagement.  The first time she saw the ring on Pax's finger, she nearly died.  Pax watched as her eyes bugged out in shock.  _Uh huh.  See.  Even foul-mouthed dragons can get a man, princess.  Bite me._  She tried to keep her childish thoughts at bay, but sometimes, it was difficult.  She'd always have a complex when it came to Remy Ellis.

"Okay, okay, you asshole.  Leave me alone and I'll get up, I promise," she said quietly.

Pax slumped on the metal bench.  Jesus she was tired.  She was getting too damn old to chase around a little child.  Stasia Donovan's legs might be short, but she could flat out run.  She left her to Donovan.  If she didn't stop and take a breath, she'd fall over dead from a coronary.  Jesus.  Just two months out of the CIA, and her body had already gone to pot.  She looked up when Donovan approached with Stasia running at the helm.  Remembering what happened to her before, Stasia slowed down and approached the bench at a slightly less charging pace.  

"Whew.  I need a gallon of water," Pax said.

Donovan smiled.  "You okay?"

"Maybe in a few days, I'll be okay."  She ran her hand through Stasia's golden locks.  "Blondie, you can really run."

She nodded happily, agreeing that she could, indeed run.  "Donnie no run?"

Pax shook her head.  "Nope.  Donnie no run, not today, tomorrow, or the next day."  She looked up at Donovan.  "I can see where she gets her stamina," she said with a grin.

He returned her smile.  "Yes.  Definitely a Donovan trait," he said with a lifted eyebrow.  He glanced down at his watch.  "Well, kiddo," he said as he lifted Stasia into his arms.  "Your mother is picking you up in about an hour.  I think we should go."

"Donnie carry Staddie," she asked.

"If her arms can hold out," Pax said.  "Come on, Blondie."

When they arrived back at the apartment, Donovan carried Stasia into her room to gather her things while Pax waited quietly in the living room.  She found herself chewing on her nails.  Ugh.  She stopped what she was doing.  It was such a bad habit and she knew she must break it.  She heard a knock on the door and she sighed a little.  Remy was behind it, she didn't need to open it to see.  She stood, approached the door, and swung it open.  Remy eyed Pax solemnly, waiting for her to get out of the way.  Pax moved back, allowing Remy to enter and Pax closed the door behind her.  _Wow.  What a switch.  This used to be her place and now it's mine_.  Well…sort of.  They had talked about moving, getting a place that could really and truly be theirs and no one else's.  When Pax turned around, Remy stood staring at her.

"Frank should have the kid ready in a few minutes," Pax said.

Remy nodded.  "Good.  Thanks."  She stared at Pax for a few moments before saying, "There's something I want to say to you."

Pax rolled her eyes.  _Here it goes_.  Remy had yet to say anything about the living arrangements or the engagement ring.  She was well aware of both, but she hadn't touched it, and probably didn't want to.  She sighed a little and said, "Okay, let it out."

"I've made it no secret that I still love him," she began.  "He knows and you know.  I'm going to be watching and waiting in the shadows.  If you mess up once, I won't hesitate to be right back in.  We have a bond, a connection with our child, and that will never go away.  Watch what you do, because I'll have my eyes and ears open.  I just wanted you to understand that."

"You don't have to worry one ounce that I'm going to mess up, because I'm not.  I love him, too, and at this moment, on this day, he is mine.  I am a possessive bitch, so I'd suggest that as soon as you have your daughter, you get your ass out of my face once and for all.  You blew it, and that's something I don't intend to do."  Pax wanted to say more, but she hesitated.  She could hear Donovan bringing Stasia into the room.

With his daughter in his arms [she had squealed with delight at the sight of her mother], he glanced at Remy and then at Pax.  He noticed the look passing between them and he'd seen it many times when they were together.  Basically, they were having some type of turf war, but the victor wouldn't change.  As he handed Stasia over to Remy, he stood back with his arms crossed.  For five minutes or more, he lamented his lack of taking so damn long to make up his mind.  Much of this could have been avoided if he had only spoken up sooner.  Of course, he didn't know things were going to change so abruptly between Pax and him.  He said nothing.  He approached his daughter and gave her a final gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Donnie kiss Staddie bye bye," Stasia asked as soon as Donovan pulled away.

Pax sighed a little.  Stasia had never asked her for a kiss.  "Sure, Blondie, I can do that."  She approached the little girl and buffed her cheek a little.  Damn if she wasn't melting her heart a little.  "See you next time, okay?"

Stasia smiled.  "Okay, Donnie.  Bye bye."

As soon as Remy and Stasia were gone, Donovan approached Pax and wrapped his arms around her from behind.  "The ice is melting, Jonella.  I feel it inside you.  I've never wanted to push her on you, not after the hell you've experienced."

She laid her hands over his.  "It's okay, Frank," she said.  "You're not pushing.  It's weird, but it feels nice having a kid around once in a while."

"And what about you and my ex?"

Pax turned within his embrace and faced him.  "That might take some work.  She still loves you, you know, and I think she believes I'm beneath you or some shit.  I'm fine with her, though.  If she stays in one corner, I'll stay in mine."

He kissed her forehead and then stepped back as if he were assessing the room.  "You know, I think we _should_ move."

"I want to," she said.  "I really do.  I don't feel comfortable in this place.  She seems to be all over it, you know?  Does that sound stupid?"

He shook his head.  "No, it doesn't.  I understand.  We can start looking tomorrow."

*  *  *

Months later, June arrived and the weather was nice and warm.  There wasn't a cloud in the sky.  Of course, why would a cloud dare ruin such a wonderful day?  Donovan looked all around him, incredulous at the amount of people in attendance.  Most of them were dressed in light summer outfits.  The big event wasn't necessarily formal.  Neither of them had actually wanted the affair to be black tie.  He glanced at his little girl.  She was so cute in her little pink sundress with matching barrettes.  She was amazed at the crowd herself and looked around at them with big, wondrous eyes.  She had probably never seen so many people in one place in her life.  Stasia kept making eye contact with her father to ensure that he hadn't disappeared.  She also began to look around for her "Donnie."  She couldn't see her anywhere and scanned the crowd before fixing her eyes on her father again.  Donovan was pleased with the progression in the relationship between Pax and Stasia.  Pax had finally grown a bit more at ease with Stasia and had begun to share her heart with her.  Stasia simply found another person willing to love her, and she latched on for all she was worth.

At the thought of Pax, he recalled that they had finally found a place that was completely theirs.  It was roomy and rattling with large windows and loft style bedrooms.  When Donovan saw the place, he couldn't help but comment that he'd seen enough lofts to last a lifetime.  Pax had elbowed him in the stomach and flat out demanded they shell out a security deposit.  Of course, Donovan loved the place as much as she.  But would he admit that right away?  Hell no.  In love he was.  Whipped he was not.  However, after that first night [spent making love, surprise surprise], he had to tell her he loved it.  The only disadvantage he found was the fact that there wasn't exactly a door for Stasia's bedroom.  It would be tricky, but they thought they could behave themselves until an alternative was found.  

Donovan looked up as Pax approached.  He had never seen her so beautiful.  Her dress was a pale shade of blue and it flowed down to a full skirt.  She had managed to tame her wild hair and get it into a relatively neat style.  Although he liked it better down, she was lovely with it upswept as well.  That was okay.  Later, he could take it down.  As if on cue, soft music began to play and Pax took his hand.  Donovan looked at Stasia for the briefest of moments.  She was clapping her little hands while she watched two people she loved very much making their progression down the red carpet toward their new lives together.  Donovan couldn't believe it.  He truly could not believe it.

In the months preceding Donovan and Pax's move, Remy had been set up on a blind date with a man named Darryl Hilton.  He hadn't personally known this information, but she had been more than reluctant to consent to going out on this date.  In fact, at first, she had fought against.  She still loved [or thought she did] Frank Donovan and figured that he would soon tire of the novelty that was Jonella Paxton.  However, sooner or later, she would have to swallow her pride and accept the fact that he and…_that woman _were a bit more to each other than bed partners.  Tentatively, she had accepted the invitation from her closest girlfriend.  It had taken several dates for Darryl to break the hold Remy had on Donovan.  However, it happened.  They began dating steadily and when Darryl proposed, Remy didn't hesitate to accept.  Now, she was walking down the aisle, readying to marry him.  It had surprised her ex-husband and his fiancée to no end when she invited them to the wedding.  They were the last two people on earth that should have been attending.  However, in a way, she felt she should thank them both.  After all, if it hadn't been for their unexpected relationship, she never would have met Darryl.  Right at that moment, she was happier than she had been in years.  

Pax felt Donovan's hand tightening its hold on hers.  She glanced up at him to note that his eyebrow was lifted and there was a look about him.  What was it?  What had she labeled it?  Was it his shit-eating grin look?  Oh yes.  That's what it was.  She knew what he was thinking.  They were at a wedding in front of several witnesses with a minister holding a bible.  _Witless prick_.  There would be no two for one wedding today.  Uh uh.  Unlike most of her peers, weddings didn't exactly make her feel all squishy inside.  They didn't make her think of marriage or even want it.  Actually, she had been as startled as Donovan at being invited.  When she received the invitation, she had wisecracked about it [naturally].  _She just wants us there so we can watch the kid_.  However, Remy wantedStasia in the wedding as a flower girl, and even planned to take her along on the honeymoon.  So, her tasteless wisecrack had no basis.  She had to admit, she owed Donovan's princess [_well, she ain't exactly Donovan's princess anymore, is she…she's Hilton's now_] a little credit in the deal.  Pax didn't know if she could be so selfless if the situations were reversed.  She returned Donovan's squeeze, suddenly feeling an irresistible and insane urge to arm wrestle with him.  _Whoever wins will make the final decision.  If you win, I'll marry you.  If I win, we'll be eternally shacked up_.  Thing was, she didn't exactly know how much of Donovan's act was a put on and how much wasn't.  She knew he wanted to get married, but _he_ knew how she felt about the deal.  Marriage and Jonella Paxton just didn't make any damn sense.  Then there was another thought eating at her.  If they married, what would happen if they grew tired of each other?  It was a hell of a lot easier [in her twisted mind anyway] to break away cleanly in a cohabitation situation than it was to dissolve a marriage.  She didn't think shewould truly grow tired of Donovan.  It hadn't happened yet and truthfully, she couldn't see it happening in the future.  This pushy ass beside her meant a lot to her.  Yet, she couldn't speak for _him_, could she?  He could easily grow tired of her.  Hell, she didn't know how he could put up with her ass in the first place.  There were times when she would have thrown herself out the door if she could.  She no longer doubted he actually loved her.  She had been reluctant to accept it at first, but now, it was a solid thought.  He wanted, loved, and was committed to her.  Committed.  Ugh.  It was a term people used when they threw someone in the nuthatch, but was also used with a couple willing to make some kind of permanent bond.  Weird how that worked out.  Pax didn't realize that she was staring at the couple standing before the minister until she heard the funky music signifying that they had taken the plunge.  The princess was no longer Remy Ellis-Donovan.  She was Remy Ellis-Hilton and Pax loved the shit out of that thought.  

Awkwardly, she stood with Donovan and watched as he grabbed up his daughter.  She was babbling at her father excitedly, repeating two words over and over:  _Mommy _and _Darlee_.  It seemed that she had just as much trouble with "Darryl" as she did "Jonella."  

Pax walked back with Donovan and Stasia to the area where the couple was greeting their guests and preparing for the reception.  Neither of them intended to stay for that.  They wanted to say their goodbyes to Stasia and then leave.  Neither of them felt awkward being at the wedding, but the reception was a different animal.  She halfway listened as Donovan began saying his farewells to his daughter.  She would be with her mother and stepfather for three or four weeks.  Pax thought she was paying some attention, but apparently she wasn't.  Impatiently, Stasia began waving her arm toward Pax, as if screaming 'hey, look at me, bitch.'  She came out of her fog and realized that the child wanted a hug from her before they left.  

"Oh, good God, Blondie, I'm sorry," Pax said as she took the girl into her arms.  She felt Stasia's arms going around her neck and then Pax heard her saying a little three-word phrase she had never uttered to her before:  'I love you.'  Pax returned the hug and the sentiment, wanting to believe that she had only reciprocated because Stasia was expecting it.  But that wasn't exactly true.  She loved the little blonde shit as much as she loved her father.  "You be a good girl, okay Blondie?"

Stasia nodded happily and hugged Pax again.  "Bondie be good."

After Donovan gave Stasia one last hug and kiss, he took hold of Pax's hand and led them away from the reception.  When they were inside the car in relative privacy, Donovan glanced at her.  "Jonella?  Are you okay?"

"Huh?"  Goddamn it.  She had been in a fog again.  "Oh, yeah, sure.  I'm great."

"You've been wandering off all day, you know that," he commented as he brought the car to life.

She nodded.  "I know."  She snagged her seatbelt and secured it about her, knowing that Donovan frowned on people who wouldn't use them.  Normally, it wouldn't matter to her.  She would utter an indignant 'fuck off' and then do what she wanted.  Not today.  She was distracted.  "Still amazed that she invited me," she said, although that wasn't exactly the thought at the crux of the matter.  In fact, she actually didn't know what the hell was at the crux of anything.  "I've not exactly been nice to her."

"No, you haven't," he said distractedly as he turned to check his blind spot.  "Then again, she hasn't been nice to you, either.  Is that what's bothering you?  If it is, it's a silly thing to be brooding about."

She wasn't an emotional person.  Actually, in her former line of work, emotions were best left buried.  They fucked a person up, gave him or her a conscience, a sense of doing the right thing instead of the 'ordered' thing.  She still wasn't accustomed to it.  No amount of love and affection from Donovan could exactly change her overnight.  It was fun trying, though.  "No," she answered.  "Shit.  I don't know.  It's been a weird day, Frank.  I want to go home and put on something a little less…respectable," she said with a smile.

He had been in the process of backing out of the parking lot, but stopped when she made the 'respectable' comment.  He put the car in park and turned to look at her.  "You look beautiful," he said.  "I know I failed to tell you that today, but you do."

She reached out to him and allowed her finger to trace a gentle line along his jaw.  A bit of the old Pax slid into her for a second, and she was tempted to give his goatee a hearty tug.  She hesitated.  _Save that for later_.  "You'd say anything to get into a woman's drawers, wouldn't you?"

He took her hand and drew her closer to him.  "Maybe," he said, grinning wickedly.

"Maybe hell.  You're a horn dog, Frank.  Even in the old days."

"I know," he said before he began nuzzling the side of her throat.  "I always thought that was part of my appeal."

"It is to some degree," she said with a sigh.  He enveloped her with his scent and warmth.  God.  What kept her from all out attacking him in the jungle?  "I thought weddings were supposed to make _women _horny."

"You aren't," he asked against her skin.

"Duh.  What do you think?  Do you really, really want to do this out here?  In the car?  With a minister not twenty feet away?"

"Since when do you care about such things," he asked amusedly, slowly drawing away.  "This coming from the woman who once felt me up in front of my parents?  The one who had me making love to her in broad daylight behind a porch swing?"  He ran a finger gently down her arm.  "You have a point, though.  I never cared for backseat escapades.  There is so much more room in bed and the entire world doesn't see my ass."

"Can we get the hell out of here," she asked, her voice tinged with an almost needy plea.

"We can."

Once they made it home, he watched as she went directly upstairs.  He could see almost everything that she was doing [_That's one advantage of living in a loft…_] and he stood back with his arms crossed over his chest.  She had carried an armload of garments from their bedroom into the bathroom.  What the hell did she think she was doing?  When he passed by the bathroom, he peeked in and saw her just getting into her baggy pajama bottoms and half-shirt.  She noticed him standing in the bedroom when she entered.  Smiling, he watched as she collapsed face first onto their huge futon like bed.  She shifted her position just slightly and buried her face in her pillow.  She could hear him moving about in the bedroom, but couldn't see what he was doing.  A few moments later, he climbed into bed with her.  _Jesus jumping Christ on a camel, he's naked_.  He pressed his body against hers and settled his hand comfortably on the side of her hip.

"I thought you wanted to make love," he said.

"Hmm…I do, but later.  Right now, I want to take a nap," she said into her pillow.  "You got me up at the fucking crack of dawn."

He lowered his head.  "Well, you got me up in the car," he whispered in her ear.

"You're a horn dog, Frank.  Walking gets you up."

"So you don't want to make love with me now," he said.

She felt his body shifting and for a moment, she was certain he was actually going to get out of bed and leave her.  Yet, the hand on the side of her hip hadn't moved away.  In fact, it began to move over further and further still.  Shortly, she felt it sliding down between her legs where he began a slow caress.  She moaned a little.  Fucker never fought fair.  She turned her head and his lips covered hers, but the gentle caress didn't stop.  As the kiss deepened, he finally drew his hand away so that he could lower her to her back.  His hand slipped under her shirt and cupped a breast, his fingers teasing the nipple.  She took hold of his hand and pushed him back a little.  He leaned up on his elbow and watched as she sat up and came out of what she referred to as her 'sleepy suit.'  When that task was accomplished, he went to her and kissed her again, their bodies drifting back down to the bed.  He found himself grinning against her lips when he felt her hand slipping below his waist.  She certainly didn't waste any time.  She never did.  He truly loved her for that.  Within moments, he was inside her, loving her, still amazed that they had come so far so quickly.

As it turned out, Donovan was the only one who had the chance to nap any.  When he opened his eyes, the light had just begun to fade from the sky.  He found himself glad that he had the next few days off because he wasn't so sure how well he would sleep tonight.  The thought brought a wicked smile to his lips.  Hmm…very interesting developments were possible.  When he turned to his side, he noticed that Pax's back was to him and she was propped up on one arm.  The bedside lamp cast a dim glow on a book she seemed to be reading.  He moved closer to her and placed a gentle kiss on her shoulder.

"Are you okay," he asked for what seemed to be the billionth time today.

"Yeah.  Turns out I wasn't that sleepy after all, but you sure as shit sawed some logs," she commented lightly.

"Well, when you're put through a vigorous round of…activity, it tends to wear you out."

She snorted.  "Ha.  Men.  You're such babies."  She grew silent and could feel Donovan's eyes studying her, and she knew he wanted to ask again if she was okay.  She sighed a little and closed her book.  She hadn't been reading the damn thing anyway.  Her eyes had been focused on the engagement ring and the worse for wear silver band.  Before he moved, she had been twirling them distractedly.  "You remember when you asked me once what the E stood for in my name?"

"Yeah," he said.  _Why is she suddenly dragging up ancient history?  _It actually wasn't so ancient, but it seemed like an odd question.  Something had been eating at her all day, but she would never say so straight out.  She would dance around it vaguely until her thoughts were properly broadcast.  "I think the asshole in me mentioned something about an evil heartbreaking bitch."

She laughed at the memory.  "Goddamn, you were so jealous.  Anyway, off track.  Whoever named me must have hated me.  The E is Eliza.  Jonella Eliza Paxton.  Can you fricking believe that?  Jonella Eliza Paxton.  That's the only thing I miss about the CIA, I could change my name any way I wanted it."  She sighed again.  "Sometimes now, I wish I hadn't been fixed.  In the past, I never thought about it once.  I don't think I would have minded having another kid, you know?"

Pax hadn't moved an inch.  Her body was stiff and rigid, almost tense.  Donovan was about to venture into territory that might get him harmed, but he couldn't help it.  "You're saying you might have wanted to have a child with me if the circumstances had allowed it?"

"Ugh.  Ew.  No.  Talk about one butt ugly kid.  It would probably come out looking like a monkey or something."  Actually, she had been thinking exactly that, and was more than startled when he picked up on her train of thought almost instantaneously.  _Shit the bed, I'm getting so damn wimpy these days.  _Her wisecracking answer was her old way.  She had always had problems being honest with herself.  "I suppose I am," she said, finally admitting it.

He kissed her shoulder again, slipping his hand under her arm, and encircling her waist.  "I would have loved it.  Thank you for sharing that with me."

"Who else can I tell?  You're the only one who has ever truly been there for me," she said simply.  "And been there and been there and been there."

"I love you…Eliza."

She turned suddenly to her back and glared at him.  "You ass."

He smiled and kissed her lips gently.  "I thought you liked my ass."  

She sighed with disgust.  "You're a horn dog, Donovan."

**____________________**

**To be continued…**                


	2. Vacaction? What Vacation?

**VACATION?  WHAT VACATION?**

It was morning.  He didn't know how he knew this since the room was surrounded in complete darkness, but it was time to get up and get moving.  Instinctively, Donovan reached out for Pax, but her side of the bed was empty.  He ran his hand through his corkscrewed hair and used his elbows to pull his body into a sitting position.  He glanced at the alarm clock beside the bed and noticed that it was six in the morning.  This was unusual.  Pax wouldn't dare get out of bed before ten.  She was an admitted sleep hog.  Since there was no little girl toddling around, he threw the covers off his butt naked body and swung his legs over the side of the bed.  He sat on the side of the bed for a few moments and called out her name a couple of times.  When he received no answer, he stood up and padded over to the bathroom door.  He snagged his robe off the hook, shrugged into it, and then descended the stairs toward the kitchen.  Surprisingly, there was no coffee made.  Although she had sworn off caffeine, she still insisted on drinking decaffeinated coffee despite thinking of it as 'donkey piss.'  Convinced that Pax was not at home, Donovan went back upstairs to start the shower.  After a vigorous and indulgent thirty minutes, he came out with a towel wrapped around his waist.  Surprisingly enough, he saw Pax on the bed in her normal position:  face buried in her pillow.  He couldn't tell if she were awake or not.  While he had been in the shower, she turned off the lights and closed the blinds.  He tossed the towel aside and donned his robe again.  Hesitating for half a second, he climbed into bed beside her and began to stroke her hair.  She made a small sound in her throat, letting him know that she had only been dozing.  She hadn't been home long.  

"Where were you," he asked, his voice drifting down into her ear.

"I couldn't sleep, so I got up and took a walk.  I didn't sleep that much last night," she said, her voice muffled in the pillow.  

Again, he found himself wanting to ask if she was okay, but he had asked that question many, many times in the past two days.  Eventually, she would let him have it and not in a good way.  He ran his fingers through her hair, amazed at how soft it was when it looked as sharp and as abrasive as her character.  Instead of voicing his question, he placed a soft kiss on the side of her neck before pulling away.  She snuggled more securely against her pillow and sighed as if relieved he had decided to leave her alone.  Smiling a little, he dug around in his chest for a change of clothes before leaving her to her dreams.  The moment he was out of the room, Pax's eyes flew open and focused on the wall opposite her.  She loved Donovan, there was no mistake about that, but she didn't feel like talking right now, didn't feel like making love to him.  They had been together long enough where he could almost sense when she had the need to be alone.  Apparently, this morning was one of those times.  She couldn't sleep, but she also didn't want to stay awake.  It was a never-ending hell for her.  _You're feeling sorry for yourself, you pussy.  _Pax wasn't one to do that, not usually.  She was out of sorts, almost _hormonal_, and she hadn't been a full-fledged 'woman' in several years.  So…what was it?  What was driving her nuts?  Was she having some sort of bizarre mid-life crisis?  _Mid-life?  I'm not even there yet.  Stupid ass that I am.  _Hmm.  Should she cut her hair?  Get a facial?  Have a manicure?  Ugh.  She hated that shit, hated feeling shitty, and right now, she did.  If her whacked out lover asked her one more time if she was okay, she thought she might harm him bodily, of course, leaving some parts alone for use…later.  He was only doing it because he loved her and was concerned.  She had a lot to learn in the realm of relationships.  Most of her exposure to the opposite sex had been cursory and mostly sexual [_Mostly?  Be honest with yourself, Pax.  It was **all **sexual_].  Her relationship had been like that with Donovan at first, but love had to come in, bite her on the ass, and complicate it.  Today, she couldn't imagine running off and leaving him behind.  It was tempting, though.  How many times in so many months had she tried to leave Donovan only to return before she completed her mission?  _Mission.  You're not a CIA agent any longer_.  She was a dumb ass.  Plain and simple.  Dumb ass.  Then there was the matter of Donovan's daughter.  Although she would never admit it to his face, she truly did love the kid.  He probably knew anyway.  He knew every damn thing about her down to her fucking bra size, but he didn't quite know how to read what was going on inside her now.  Of course, she kept it hidden behind a steel door that only Kryptonite could burst.  _Just who the hell do I think I am, anyway?  Superfuckingman?  _It didn't matter anyway.  She supposed that as soon as she had it all figured out, she would share it with the bastard.  She had told him everything else, had even said that she'd let him knock her up if she still had all her works.  What was this?  Jonella Paxton wanting to nest?  Good God.  Had the thought ever crossed her mind before?  It hadn't, but then again, she had spent a majority of her life as a loner.  What she wanted she got and then threw the rest away.  It was all Frank Donovan's fault.  Oh yes.  She could blame it all on him.  If he hadn't brought this shit out of her, she would be halfway normal.  Instead, she was some ditzy chick who fell to his feet when he laid one finger on her.  Hadn't she once sworn she wouldn't do that?  

Back in the day, the secretaries in the central office had made her ill.  Nearly all of them were focused on Donovan.  They all seemed to want him.  They couldn't understand how Pax had lucked out to be his partner.  She had once overheard a couple of the lamebrains talking one morning.  It was something she would never forget as long as she lived.  _Who is he with?  Oh my God.  **Not **her.  You've got to be kidding.  I know she's an agent and all, but damn it, **look **at her.  Tall, skinny, and oh my God.  Short hair.  I heard he's into big boobed women with long blonde hair.  If she's an A cup, I'd be surprised.  They **have **to be partners.  He wouldn't sleep with **that**.  _Oh no?  _Just look at me now, you stupid little come eaters.  _Shit like that normally rolled off her back.  She was pretty hard to rattle, but it did hurt in a way.  She had had a soft spot for Donovan even then, but it wasn't like she wanted to fuck him.  He was more like a brother…until he started kissing her.  The game had changed a little after that.  She never understood why he kissed her to shut her up.  It would have been easier just kicking her stubborn ass.  However, Donovan never liked easy stuff.  Hard was the opportune word and he went for it that way each and every time.  He drove her nuts, but he had gotten under her skin as effectively as she had his.  They chose two different paths but wound up stuck together anyway some years down the road.  _Look at you now.  You're in his bed, wearing his engagement ring, acting as if you're his kid's stepmother.  _What the hell was going on?  Did she want to stay with him like this indefinitely?  What if he wanted more?  He _did _want more.  It was obvious.  He wanted to marry her, but hadn't said one errant word about it after the day he gave her the engagement ring.  There was something else he might want outside the realm of marriage that she definitely couldn't give him.  What if he wanted more children?  She certainly couldn't have them.  Was that it?  Was that the crux of the matter that had been eating out her ass since yesterday?  Ugh.  Hell no.  She wasn't about to get all soft.  She could be in love, but she didn't have to start acting like…like…_a woman_.  No way.  Uh uh.  She didn't want to be like those ditzy airheads who had worked in the central office.  She didn't want to be like Donovan's ex-wife.  She wanted none of that.  Yet, she wanted Donovan, wanted him just as much as anyone could.  If she were to tell him this shit, she was afraid he wouldn't get it.  It never dawned on her that he _might _understand.  She buried her face into her pillow for a few moments.  She hated being like this, hated to spend so much damn time ruminating.  Was Frank Donovan worth all this?  _You damn skippy.  _On that thought, Pax finally fell asleep.  She didn't know anything until she felt Donovan sliding in bed beside her.

She didn't immediately move and he was certain that she was still asleep.  He didn't want to wake her, as she hadn't gotten any sleep the night before.  He shifted position slightly when he felt her moving around.  She turned to her side to face him.  "Were you asleep," he asked.  "I didn't intend to wake you up."

She shook her head.  "No.  I never fell asleep.  I was just stuffed under the covers trying to nap, but it didn't work."  She noticed that he was freshly showered and fully dressed.  She vaguely wondered how long she had been lying there.  "What's up with you today?  Normally you're trying to drag me out of bed, but you're all up in it right now.  Very un-Donovan-like, wouldn't you say?"

He gave her a gentle smile.  "Yeah, but so what?  I can get out of character once in a while, can't I?"  He reached out and cupped her face with one hand, allowing his thumb to stroke her cheek.  "Would you allow me to stay in bed with you today?  I could use an extended nap.  Actually, it would be a first time thing for me."  He placed a gentle kiss on her lips.  "I love you."

Pax sighed a little.  She definitely wished sometimes that he wouldn't do that.  It never failed to get to her.  It worked through every layer of defense she had.  It had worked the first time she heard it and each subsequent time thereafter.  What was she thinking anyway?  Did she think she could simply get up, pack, and leave?  Was that it?  That was the old way.  It wasn't the type of person she was now.  She had changed, had finally let someone else in.  "I love you, too," she whispered.  She returned his kiss and scooted a little closer to him.  She had no idea why in the hell they insisted on getting such a gigantic bed.  They wound up sleeping in the center of it anyway.  She wanted to strip him out of his clothing and fuck him until he couldn't walk.  Another part of her was satisfied simply being near him.  She went with that side.  "I'm glad you decided to stay in bed.  I like you like this," she told him.

Donovan was close to asking her again if she was okay, but he bit his tongue.  It was best to let her stew.  If he continued to poke and prod she wouldn't say a word.  Perhaps if he left her alone, she would eventually tell him in her own sweet time.  Without ceremony, she closed her eyes and buried her face in the space against his neck and shoulder.  Her skin felt soft and cool to the touch.  She didn't want to talk and he wouldn't push it.  It wasn't a good idea to push Jonella Paxton, not if a man wanted to live to see his next birthday.  He smiled a little.  It had been several months since that crazy day he had given her the engagement ring.  He couldn't actually call what happened a marriage proposal, because it wasn't.  It had been many months, but he still thought in terms of the 'old' Pax.  There was plenty of her old self left over, and she didn't mind showing it, but it had been quite some time since she had actually tried kicking his ass.  He continued thinking in those terms, even after he knew the scheming was over, knew the games had ended once and for all.  _Old habits die hard_.  He didn't often think back to the many times they were together in the jungle.  Now, it seemed more than bizarre for him to reflect at all.  They were both different people back then.  _Were we?  Were we really?  _

The first day he saw Jonella Paxton, she turned his stomach.  She looked like an evil streetwalker from hell and her demeanor matched one.  When he had commented about that to her, she had smartly asked him:  _What do **you **know about streetwalkers?  Have you fucked many in your day?  _Her brazen comment had shut him right the fuck up.  Never had he been spoken to like that [_by a woman, anyway_].  _Admit it, pretty boy.  You were accustomed to women in your immediate vicinity falling all over themselves to touch you.  _Pax wasn't one of them.  Of course, she wasn't one he would ever voluntarily sleep with, either.  If forced [_by gunpoint_], he would have done it.  Yet, after their first meeting, he began to grudgingly get acquainted with her.  Why fight it?  They were partners and would be stuck together for a while.  In remote locations, it helped having someone to talk to, even if it was a woman with the disposition of a rutting moose.  It wasn't a pretty sight.  He wouldn't admit it, but she made him laugh, even when he didn't want to.  Her sense of humor was colorful and vile.  It was a relief for him to realize that he didn't have to impress her.  She made it clear that she didn't want him, and he sure as hell didn't want her.  Donovan was young and could be a little stupid.  He hadn't had any female partners.  When he met them at the training academy or otherwise, they weren't field agents.  There were plenty of women in his division, but all of them were married and/or otherwise obligated.  The only women he was exposed to routinely were the few who worked in the office.  Then again, he had also had a girlfriend back in Chicago.  It wasn't a serious fling, but he thought he was in love.  

Although it killed his arrogant soul to admit it, Pax was refreshing.  She simply wasn't like any other woman he had ever met.  She didn't give a shit and had no trouble telling him she didn't.  When they came to a grudging understanding, he realized that she wasn't half bad.  He still wouldn't touch her with a ten-foot pole, but she wasn't bad.  After some time, he began to understand how vulnerable she actually was.  Was there any attraction at all, even then?  _Was there?_  He felt almost insanely protective of her toward the end and had gone so far as to shoot her legs to keep her from doing something stupid.  It was an odd way of showing affection, but it was his way, he supposed.  When she sauntered back into his life at the time of his and Remy's divorce, they continued to fight each other like wildcats, just like the old days.  Perhaps what they were fighting then was what they eventually surrendered to in the end.  Was that it?  If they hadn't been duty bound, would something have happened?  The night they had gotten drunk together, when he became fascinated with her tattoo, he _was _checking her out.  Beneath the heavy BDUs and clunky combat boots, she _looked _like a woman.  She wasn't as busty as he liked, but she wasn't half bad.  He often wondered what would have happened if she hadn't run off to become a Death Angel.  Looking down at her, he ran the back of his index finger along her cheek.  It didn't matter anymore.  She had tread through hell.  He was beside her for most of the trip, and now they were together.  He sometimes worried that this life wasn't enough for her.  At the moment, she wasn't working, and he had never known her to be idle any longer than fifteen minutes.  He loved her so much and couldn't fathom the idea of losing her now, but if she weren't happy, he would let her go.  He didn't want to see that day and hoped it never came.  They had never had one of those 'is this good enough for you' talks.  Neither of them truly thought it was necessary, but Donovan couldn't chase the doubts out of his mind.  Sooner or later, they would have to talk this out.  However, he was content to let it ride for as long as possible.  _You're a pussy chickenshit, Frank Donovan.  Just admit it and get it over with.  _So he was.  He didn't want to ask Pax and have her tell him she wasn't happy.  He wasn't so certain he could deal with that right now.  Perhaps in the beginning, he could have, but right now there was no way.  

With one final touch, he drew away from her to give her some privacy.  Before he moved one inch, she took hold of his shirt.  "Where do you think you're going," she asked softly.  "Didn't I tell you I wanted you to stay right here?"

He smiled down at her.  Her eyes were still closed.  "I thought you might like to have the bed all to yourself."

"If I did, Donovan, I wouldn't have told you I like you like this, now would I?"  Even half asleep, she had an attitude.  "How often do I have you all to myself?  Not very damn much.  When I want you to leave, I'll kick your ass out of bed," she said with a smile curling her lips.  

"I know you will," he told her.  "You never make idle threats of bodily harm.  That's what I like about you the most."

Unable to go back to sleep now, she drew away just the slightest so she could look in his eyes.  "Frank, there's something I want to ask you," she began.  "Am I…will I be…enough for you?"

Donovan was surprised to hear the question.  He moved back a little and his eyes searched her face.  What was she talking about?  "What?  Where is this coming from?  _Of course_.  I love you.  But I must ask you the same question.  Is what we have at this moment enough for you?  I worry that it isn't."

"After all the shit I've done in my life, you think I'm bored," she asked.  "Hell no, Donovan.  I'm far from bored.  This is one hell of a break for me."  She sighed heavily.  "By staying with me, aren't you giving up further chances at having children?  I mean…I can't do that and…"

"Jonella, is this what you've been brooding about the last few days," he asked.  She said nothing, but he could read the answer in her eyes.  Of course it was what she had been brooding about.  _I'm truly an idiot_.  "I…we…have Stasia.  I know it's been difficult for you, but she loves you almost as much as I do.  I love my daughter, but having another child isn't important to me."

"But I'll bet you want more, don't you?"

He kissed her lips very gently.  "I told you it's not important to me and it's not.  I love you very much just as you are.  Right now, I'm perfectly happy with you and Stasia.  Wipe it out of your mind, Jonella."

"Only if you wipe out the thought that I'd be bored with you," she said with a smile.

"It's gone," he told her.  

He leaned toward her and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.  However, it wasn't enough for her.  She covered his lips with hers and kissed him deeply.  Before long, he had lowered her to the bed.  As her fingers worked open his shirt, she smiled against his lips.  "You're such a horn dog," she whispered.

He chuckled.  "Is that all you can say?"

"Yup."

**____________________**

**To be continued…**                             


	3. The New Case

THE NEW CASE

Darryl Hilton cursed evening traffic as he made his way home.  His wife of five months was likely impatiently awaiting him.  They were supposed to spend a night out on the town.  Remy was looking forward to it.  He had been so busy at work lately that they had had little time together.  When he thought about the last few weeks, he wondered how he was going to break the news to his wife.  She had thought he was nothing more than an honest man.  She had told him numerous times about her affair with a shady senator and she had no desire to get involved in another clandestine relationship.  Remy was clueless when it came to his business dealings and he normally kept her out of it.  However, right now, he was dragging her along for the ride.  Three or four days ago [he had honestly lost track], a couple of G-men had entered his office.  Almost immediately, Hilton had begun to sweat.  He knew why they were there and what they wanted.  Thank God Remy no longer worked on the same floor.  Thank God she was a housewife.  Thank God his stepdaughter was with her father.  Yet, their perfect little world was about to come crashing down around their feet.  She would surely leave him.  What made it worse was the fact that her ex-husband was some type of federal agent himself.  Was he one of the men out to destroy everything he held dear?  What if he blabbed to Remy?  They still had a fairly decent relationship and made idle chitchat when either picking up or dropping off Stasia.  It was a horrible thought.  He wasn't ready to lose everything, but it was happening.  As soon as he began to sing, his deeds would be broadcast to all.  Bye bye to his six figure salary, multi-million dollar home, BMW, and pretty little wife.  The G-men hadn't promised anything.  They said he would likely go to federal prison for a few years.  Men like him didn't last long in prison.  Although it made him feel like a little boy, his eyes began to fill with tears.  He didn't want to go to prison.  However, accepting kickbacks and laundering money was frowned upon in his line of work.  He was willing to squeal.  He was willing to do anything to lighten his sentence.  He never gave one thought as to the repercussions of his behavior because he was focused more on what he would lose.

Hilton pulled his Beamer into the long driveway, sighing heavily as the iron security gate opened and then closed shut behind him.  Perhaps he could forget what was going on for a few more hours.  He would take his wife out on the town for one last hoorah.  After that, the FBI would descend upon him, his office, and his home like a swarm of locusts.  Maybe he could send Remy out of town.  Yeah.  He could do that.  He could send her to a health resort or something.  A lot of his co-workers had wives who did that all of the time.  Of course, she was well put together and really didn't need it, but he wanted to spare her as much pain and embarrassment as possible.  Actually, he was probably trying to spare himself, but he had to shove that out of his mind.  

The moment he pulled his car into the spacious garage, something didn't feel quite right.  The house was large and pretentious.  It was a showpiece that Hilton enjoyed showing off at every opportunity.  He had hired a full staff solely responsible for keeping the grounds neat and tidy.  Any time they slacked off, he pounced on their asses and made sure that they got moving.  Anyone who couldn't cut it was fired without question.  He was like this even now in winter.  There was no one on the grounds.  No 'good evening, Mr. Hilton,' 'would you like a special fertilizer on the grass, Mr. Hilton,' or 'I have this special blend of grass that might not turn brown when it freezes, Mr. Hilton.'  When he stepped up toward the back door, he didn't see any kitchen staff jumping around preparing dinner.  Then he remembered that he was taking his wife out tonight.  There was no reason for them to be preparing dinner.  The cooks and maids were probably in their quarters taking a breather for once.  He was home early, of course, and perhaps that explained why nothing was going on.  He supposed the groundskeepers were slacking off and he had caught them.  _I'll take care of you.  Pink slips all around_.  He realized then that he had no right to be so smug.  His comfortable existence was about to end.  He again wondered how he would tell his wife that they would be broke by the morning.  _Soon, dear wife, you will probably have to pawn that five-carat engagement ring I gave you to rent a roach infested apartment.  _The back door was locked just as he liked it and he inserted his door key into the slot.  Hilton pushed the door open and stepped into the large, glistening kitchen.  Darryl Hilton was quite obsessive-compulsive and everything around him had to be spotless.  If one thing was out of line, he would have to straighten it or he would lose his mind.

As he moved through the kitchen toward the massive hallway, he heard soft classical music wafting from upstairs.  Apparently Remy wasn't ready yet.  If he heard music playing, it was indicative of her taking a bath.  He was only slightly annoyed.  If it was yesterday before the feds, he might have yelled at her.  It was today, and again, he thought he had no right or room to be smug.  He began to ascend the marble staircase, the soles of his expensive shoes clacking on the surface.  As he neared the master bath, the music grew louder.  Remy was definitely in the bathtub.  He saw the bathroom door cracked open and could just make out the back of her head.  It appeared that she had fallen asleep in the tub.  He almost turned around to leave her, but decided against it at the last moment.  Hilton opened the door a little wider and then stepped toward the tub.  He turned off the CD player and the room was suddenly filled with a deafening silence.  He expected her to turn toward him with an annoyed look on her face.  She didn't move.  He knew he should have turned around to run, but he didn't.  He was much too curious at this point.  The one noise that broke the silence was an audible _plink_.  When he focused his eyes in the direction of the noise, he saw that a drop of blood had made the sound as it fell to the floor.  Even more curious now, he stepped closer.  He laid his hand on her shoulder and it was ice cold to the touch.  Something should have told him to back away, to focus his eyes elsewhere, but it didn't happen.  As if awaking from a deep coma, he finally noticed that her eyes were wide open and glassy.  Her throat was slit from ear to ear, her head nearly decapitated.  The blood from her wound had poured out over her breasts, trickled down her abdomen, and rolled into the bath water.  It seemed as if she were submerged in some type of scarlet perfumed water.  His heart pounded hard in his chest and the skin on his testicles began to crawl.  Hilton didn't know whether to scream insanely or run like a girl.  He turned on his heel and was face-to-face with a man he both loathed and feared.  He was the man who had likely murdered his wife.  Before Hilton could take a single breath, he felt the cold steel of a gun shoved against the underside of his chin.  His assailant's eyes seemed to ask him if he wanted to dance.  Hilton opened his mouth to plead for his life.  While he was thinking about how to proceed, the other man pulled the trigger.  A bullet raced up and ripped into his brain, exiting out toward the back of his head, taking a good portion of his brain with it.  

When the deed was done, the killer smiled a little and blew at the barrel of his gun as if he were Clint Eastwood.  Without a word, he turned away and strolled casually down the stairs.  He made his way into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door, and began to rummage around for some food.  Before he finished off the wife, he had made her get rid of every last one of the house staff.  She had been standing in the kitchen when he made his appearance.  As much as he was doing right now, she was digging around in the fridge.  He had then eyed a nice cut of roast beef that was likely left over from the previous night.  He promised himself that as soon as he finished the job, he would reward himself with a slab of that meat between two slices of wheat bread slathered with mustard.  He dug out the makings and set about preparing his sandwich.  There was no need to hurry.  By the time the bodies were found, he would be long gone.  As he bit into his treat, he ripped at the meat with his teeth as if he were a lion.  He hated fucking squealers.  The wife was simply a fluke.  If she had been out shopping or some shit like other over privileged wives, he wouldn't have given her a second thought.

*  *  *

Lieutenant Detective Alayna Norwood stood in the center of a gigantic dining room.  Earlier, she had assessed the scene, grimacing at the carnage.  Any other time, it wouldn't have bothered her.  However, the victims in question were related to her.  Remy was [_had been_] her third or fourth cousin.  Three or so years ago, she had been a Brides Maid when Remy married some wiseass federal agent named Frank something.  She had also been at Remy's wedding five months ago.  Frank something was there with his new squeeze and his and Remy's kid.  She recalled that her chief told her he could take her off the case, but she insisted she could do it.  She blew it off as if her cousin didn't mean anything to her.  Well…actually…that wasn't far from the truth.  It was a rare occasion when Alayna saw Remy.  It was mostly during family functions here and there.  She was as stunned as everything when Remy asked her to be a Brides Maid.  She was inclined to believe that Remy had had an extra dress with no one else to fill it.  She shrugged it off.  Remy could be a pain in the ass sometimes, but she _was _family.  Whatever the case, she could handle it and remain objective.  Or so she thought.  

As she made her way through the kitchen again, she thought about Remy's ex-husband.  How long had it been since they had divorced?  She couldn't remember, but it was information she could easily obtain.  Alayna had ways of getting shit that no one else could.  It wasn't that she was crooked, she just didn't take 'no' for an answer.  Already she was considering Frank something a suspect.  He was an agent, knew interesting ways to murder, and could likely get out without being seen.  Whoever the murderer was [_Frank something_], he was brazen and had literally walked away from the scene as if he were visiting the family to discuss life insurance.  There was no evidence surrounding the crime scene and she hoped that CSI found prints that didn't belong in the house.  At the same time, she had several rookies questioning various maids and other staff.  They had seen the mistress of the house speaking to a man after she sent them all home.  They described him as tall, olive-skinned, with black hair.  He sounded like Frank something to her.  Yet, what was his motivation to kill Remy?  They had divorced, shared joint custody of their kid, and he already had another girlfriend.  Then again, even the most rational man could lose it once in a while.  She wondered how difficult it would be to get into his personnel files.  Alayna had friends in the Bureau, had contemplated joining at one time, and it wouldn't be hard finding the information.  Oh yeah.  Frank something was definitely at the top of her mental list unless CSI yielded some other viable suspect.  Although it wasn't her thing, she would volunteer to give Mr. Something a call to let him know his ex-wife was dead.

*  *  *

Donovan stood near his team as Cody and Monica were briefing them regarding their new case.  Patrick Draper was the subject.  He was the leader of a new generation of mob bosses and he had ties to hundreds of businesses in the Chicago area.  It was up to the team to break the ring.  Draper was a particularly vicious killer who had 'issues' with betrayal.  Then again, what mob boss _didn't_?  It was time to decide how Jake and Alex could infiltrate the gang.  However, it was difficult for Donovan to think.  His mind was focused on Pax.  It had been a full five months since they had aired their fears, but Pax was still a little distant.  He tried not to push, but it was difficult.  He grew to love her more every day, but he didn't want to alienate her.  If he didn't back off, it was exactly where they were headed.

It was hotter than hell that night.  Donovan and Pax had had a major falling out over their current mission.  She had wanted to go one way with it and he the other.  It was always that way with them.  Nothing new.  However, Donovan quickly pulled rank on her.  He was the lead agent, damn it, and Jonella Paxton would respect him as such.  It didn't work.  Nothing ever did.  Not with her.  They had actually gotten into a full-fledged fistfight.  Before he knew what was going on, he had broken her nose.  He had felt and heard the sickening crunching sound.  He was immediately remorseful, but Pax was pissed to high heaven.  She began swinging at him, catching him with upper cuts, right hooks, left hooks, the works.  He figured that by the time they were finished, they would both be in the hospital.  Donovan had quickly taken control of the situation.  Regardless of how strong Pax was, he outweighed her and he used that to his advantage.  He tripped her and threw her down to the ground.  She cursed at him, blood pouring from her nose the entire time.

_For days thereafter, he apologized profusely.  She was a vicious oily bitch, but she hadn't deserved a broken nose.  She received treatment, but would never acknowledge his apologies.  After a week or so, he stopped trying to apologize and thought that all was well.  He was wrong.  He was oh so wrong.  After a particularly quiet day, Donovan retired early.  Calm nights were few and far between.  He hit the sleeping bag and immediately fell asleep.  He began to dream and it was a nice dream.  He saw an image of his current girl.  He was lying naked beneath her and her wicked little hand was slowly caressing him up and down the length of his thigh.  It was nice and very shortly, he would beg her to let him come inside.  The dream progressed and became nicer and nicer still.  He was almost to the point of begging her to stop.  His hand reached down and grasped her finger.  Oddly, it felt a bit cold and scaly to the touch._

_Pax laughed loud and heartily when she heard Donovan roaring:  JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!  In his haste to get rid of the snake, he stood straight up, causing his tent to implode around him.  His body tangled into the drab olive material and he continued to curse and yell.  She nearly had an embolism as she watched the little snake crawl out from under the tent nonchalantly while Donovan continued to fight against his tent.  It took perhaps fifteen minutes for him to realize the snake was gone.  It took quite a bit longer for him to free himself.  She was tempted to help him out, but the moment she thought of her broken nose, she stopped.  The fucker could get himself out of this mess just fine.  Witless fuck.  Served his prissy ass right._

_Pax went back to sleep, forgetting all about Spankie.  He wouldn't immediately connect her to the snake incident, because after all, this **was** the fucking jungle.  She was still smiling when she closed her eyes.  She had no idea that Donovan was staring down at her tent, murder in his eyes.  A string of curses erupted from her throat the moment she felt his large hands clamping down on her ankles.  He began dragging her out of the tent inch by inch.  The moment her body was exposed to the humid night air, she tried to sit up, but he held fast._

_"I should fucking kill you, Pax," he spat through gritted teeth._

_"Bite me, Spankie," she screamed petulantly.  Her voice still had a nasally, foghorn quality.  "Serves your fucking ass right for breaking my goddamn nose!  Look at me you witless fuck!  My face will never be the same."_

_"I can only hope that it gives you more character," he said.  "You surely have none now."_

_Once she was sufficiently out of the way, he climbed into her tent.  Oh hell no.  What did he think he was doing?  The tents were big enough for two people so she climbed in after him.  "What the **fuck **do you think you're doing," she demanded.  "If you haven't noticed, this tent belongs to **me**.  Now get the fuck out.  Don't make me shoot you, Frankie."_

_He dug his teeth into his lip to keep from screaming at her again.  She was trying his patience, likely doing it on purpose.  "Fine, Agent Paxton.  Shoot me.  Shut the hell up and go to sleep.  This will be the last time you ever sleep with me."_

_"I'm so broken hearted," she said sarcastically.  "If you touch me, I'll bring you an anaconda next time," she promised._

_This will be the last time you ever sleep with me_.  Indeed.  He had eaten those words, had eaten them every day after the first time they had seriously slept together, making love instead of screwing around.  Pax had never brought that up.  He knew she remembered, because it had never left him.  He listened to Cody and Monica going on and on about the new case.  Part of his brain began calculating the next steps they needed to take.  The other part was back in the jungle.  He was lucky as hell that the snake hadn't sunk its teeth into his nether regions.

*  *  *

Pax collapsed atop Donovan, her body still quaking from their lovemaking.  He had swallowed her last cry within a deep kiss.  They were trying to be a bit quieter because Stasia was asleep several feet from where they lay panting.  Her ears were quite sensitive as her room at Remy's new place was three times as large as this and a good distance from her mother.  Besides, Pax sometimes tended to get a little…vocal.  "I love you," he whispered against her lips.

"You should," she said with a laugh.

He was about to kiss her again, but the phone rang suddenly, startling them both.  Donovan glanced at the clock.  Who the hell would be calling them at this hour?  He was inclined to ignore it, but before he could kiss his lover again, she moved off him.  This was routine stuff for her now.  It wasn't the first or last time that they had been interrupted by phone calls from the team and/or Donovan's superiors.  She reached for the phone and handed it to him without blinking twice.

"Is this Frank Donovan?"

It was a female's voice.  Oddly enough, he thought he should know who this was, but he couldn't put his finger on it.  "Yes, it is.  Who are you and why are you calling at two in the morning?"

"Hello Agent Donovan," she said.  "This is Lieutenant Norwood from the Chicago Police Department."

Norwood?  The name prickled him again.  "Why are you calling," he asked again.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Agent Donovan, but I'm calling about your ex-wife.  She and her husband were found dead in their home earlier today.  It's an apparent homicide."

At first, he had no idea what he was going to say.  Remy and Darryl?  Murdered?  It had to be a mistake.  The words wouldn't immediately come to him.  He was completely too shocked to speak.

"You're still there, aren't you?  I would like to make an appointment to speak to you if you don't mind," Alayna said.  

He couldn't think clearly enough to ask her why she wanted to see him.  "Of course," he sputtered.  He rattled off his work number and then hung up.  

Behind him, Pax was gazing at him curiously, worriedly.  Her hand came out to touch his arm.  "Frank?"

He turned and looked at her.  "That was…that was the Chicago police.  Remy and her husband were murdered today."

Immediately, Pax thought of Stasia.  "Oh Jesus."  There was no love lost between her and Remy, but she had never wished the woman dead.  "I'm sorry," she said, not knowing exactly what else to say.  Normally at a time like this, Pax would feel extremely awkward and uncomfortable.  It wasn't like that this time.  For once in her selfish life, she was concerned about someone else's feelings.  "Frank?  Are you okay?"

He shook his head.  "I'm not exactly sure what I am right now," he said.  

Like Pax, his first thought was his daughter.  How the hell would his little girl understand all this?  She still didn't understand why her parents weren't together anymore and now, he was faced with a more heartbreaking situation.  How would she understand the finality of death?  How would he help her understand the fact that she would never see her mother again?  He absolutely hated hurting her.  Pax placed her hand on top of his and the moment he felt it, he grasped her fingers tightly in his.  Stasia.  His sweet little angel.  Again, he wondered how the hell he could make her understand.

**____________________**

**To be continued…**

   


	4. Distractions and Detours

DISTRACTIONS AND DETOURS

Pax awoke and noticed that Donovan was not in bed beside her.  Actually, he had gotten out of bed hours ago.  He had spent several hours tossing and turning before finally giving up and crawling out of bed.  She spied her robe at the foot of the bed and snagged it.  She stood up and slipped into it, tying it tightly about her waist.  From down the hall, she thought she heard Stasia's voice.  Pax stepped out of the bedroom and padded down to the little girl's bedroom.  She stopped just outside the door.  Donovan's back was to her and she saw that he was holding his little girl in his lap.  She could hear the low tones of his voice and it appeared as if he were reading her a story.  Stasia was responding to him by slapping the pages or asking her father one of her favorite questions:  _Wot dat Daddy?  _It was one of the most bittersweet moments of her life.  Jonella Paxton wasn't an emotional woman, but that sight alone had the ability to make her want to squall like a baby.  Pax was about to make her way out of the room before she choked on her tears, but Stasia noticed Pax's tall frame and gave another familiar cry:  _Donnie!_  At that, Donovan turned around and glanced at Pax, a sad little smile on his face.  Pax wanted to do a fade and give Donovan some time alone with his daughter.  The next few days were going to be hell and Stasia would never fully understand.  However, when she moved, Stasia called out to her again.

"Donnie read to Bondie," Stasia asked.

Pax nodded.  "Sure, kiddo."  She stepped into the bedroom and folded her lanky body into a sitting position on the floor.  Stasia immediately demanded to be released and Donovan helped her to her feet.  Without hesitation, she went over to Pax and unceremoniously flopped down onto her lap.  "Where's your book, Blondie?  Did Daddy keep it?"

The little girl looked over at her father.  "You got book?"

Keeping his sad smile, he handed the book to Pax and watched in silence as she began reading to the little girl.  He wasn't sure if Remy's family had been notified of her death, but he knew that he would be contacted as soon as they heard.  They had no true interest in him anymore, of course.  Their interest would be focused on Stasia.  He couldn't blame them.  She was their grandchild and niece.  Donovan expected a huge fight to ensue in the coming days.  They would want Stasia at the funeral and he didn't know how he felt about that.  Seeing those she loved grieving would only serve to distress her.  He had been right around nine or ten when he went to his first funeral and it had virtually scarred him for life.  He didn't want to put his child through that horror.  Once again, he focused his eyes on Pax and Stasia.  His daughter was completely into the story, fascinated by the way Pax was acting it out for her.  Although Donovan's eyes were focused on the two most important women in his life, he was almost staring through them.

It was a hot day.  Duh.  It was always hot around the jungle.  Some time had passed since the nose breaking incident and Donovan's relationship with his partner hadn't improved much.  The fights and pranks were childish and seemingly endless.  During a meeting with their superiors, Donovan had literally ranked out Pax.  It was tasteless and unnecessary, but he was sick of her attitude.  He didn't understand her or her motivation for doing some of the things she did.  He tried to speak to her civilly on various occasions, but she made it clear that she was having none of that.  He pretended that her isolation didn't bother him, but it did.  Being in this godforsaken jungle was taking its toll on him and he needed to talk to someone, even if it was this psycho bitch from hell.  Pax made it clear that she didn't need anyone.  When he tried to go to sleep that night, he wondered what had started this particular round of fighting.  Oh yes.  He remembered now.  They were close to breaking up some seriously screwed up arms deal.  Donovan watched as Pax tripped out the moment she laid eyes on the leader of the group.  What was his name?  Keith.  Keith Ahiga.  She had wanted to storm through the big middle of the meeting, but he had held her back.  Pax was so angry that she wanted to shoot him where he stood.  As if he were some type of overgrown tattletale, he took her to headquarters and severely chewed her ass.  He hoped that Pax would at least explain why she carried such fierce hatred for Ahiga.  However, Pax had shut herself off and refused to speak.

_After receiving another ass chewing from the boss, Pax went back to camp.  Donovan had yet to arrive.  It was time to fix him up good.  She seriously thought of trapping an anaconda and letting it loose in his tent, but she actually didn't want to kill the bastard.  She wanted to get him back.  The sick fuck wouldn't be her partner for long, because she was attracted to another branch of the agency, but she was stuck with him for however long it took to make the change.  Due to the horrid facilities, most of their toiletries had to be concentrated and compact.  They had to use some type of weird toothpaste that was in a compact closely resembling a **Sucrets **box.  She took one of her empty containers and filled it with shaving cream.  After that task was accomplished, she snuck into Donovan's tent and switched out the little cases.  Tonight when the witless fuck brushed his teeth, he would shave them at the same time.  Nonchalantly, she went back to her own tent and began to peel away the soaked BDUs.  While waiting for her partner to return, she sipped steadily at her silver vial of vodka.  If she didn't get out of here soon, she would lose her mind._

_Spankie had tried everything humanly possible to dig into her mind.  He wanted to know what her connection to Ahiga was, but she wasn't about to tell him.  It was none of his fucking business.  She hadn't told anyone she **liked**.  Why would she bother with someone she hated?  Well…she didn't actually hate Spankie, but she had 'issues' with him.  Outside his build [Spankie was a skinny little twerp], age, and demeanor, he reminded her a little of Ahiga.  She had been in love with Ahiga, had bore him a son that he allowed to die, and the last thing she needed in her work was a daily reminder of the son-of-a-bitch.  Yet, Spankie wasn't truly **like **Ahiga at all.  He was more…what were the words…loyal and honest.  Ugh.  Why was she thinking like this?  It made no fucking sense.  She didn't want to open herself up to another horrendous affair.  Donovan wasn't half bad in a yucky sort of way, but the thought of his touching her turned her stomach [or did it].  **God…get the fuck out of my head, Spankie.  **She belittled him because…no…uh God, don't think it, don't even say it.  **La la la la la.  I can't hear you.  Smoke screen, smoke screen so the truth cannot be seen.  **Ah…much better.  The little voice was gone now.  Pax settled back and heaved a sigh of relief.  If she could just keep this up for a few more weeks, she would be just fine._

_"PAX," came Donovan's indignant roar._

_Ooops.  He must have found the toothpaste.  Nonchalantly, she crawled out of her tent and smiled a little when she noticed Donovan.  He stood bent over, spitting the shit out of his mouth.  The entire time, he was cursing her, swearing he would kill her.  Pax tried not to laugh, but she couldn't help it.  She had never seen Spankie…spit.  It didn't seem like something he would do.  He was entirely too prissy for that.  Once Donovan spat out the horrid taste of shaving cream from his mouth, he looked up at his evil partner.  She was laughing behind her hand, not trying very hard to hide it.  He was livid and ready to murder her.  Oh yes.  This time he would surely shoot her dead.  No more idle threats._

_Donovan stalked toward her and took hold of her forearms.  He squeezed them none too gently.  He glared down at her, utilizing his cold eyes for everything they were worth.  "Agent Paxton, what the **fuck **do you think you're doing?"  She continued to laugh like a loon, so he shook her.  "**Tell me** **goddamn it**."_

_Her laughter quickly died.  His tone was sincerely beginning to piss her right the fuck off.  "I might stop acting like an idiot if you'll stop acting like you're my goddamn father.  You don't have that many fucking years on me, Spankie, and I think I've done more fieldwork than you have in your entire career.  You're only lead agent because you have a dick.  You're nothing special.  You have no more going for you than I do.  If you weren't some fucking poster boy, I would have status over you, Spankie.  Tons of it.  The CIA brethren frown upon certain behavior and I got assigned this shit job because of it.  I'll be out of your hair before you know it.  That day won't come soon enough, I assure you."_

_For all her salt and vinegar, he could sense a great vulnerability within her cold heart.  Something or someone had royally screwed her over.  "If you'll just fucking act like a human being, I'll stop this shit.  But you won't.  I've given you thousands of chances to redeem yourself, but you keep shitting on me.  I won't have it, because unlike you, I want to go home alive."_

_"Let me go, you ass.  I don't want to spend another moment looking at your ugly face.  If I want to be this close to a witless fuck, I'll go to Bogotá and pick up a fucking gigolo.  I'm sure they have more between their legs than two raisins and a kick stand."_

_Pax had opened her mouth to say more, but a wicked urge struck him, one he would never understand as long as he lived.  He wanted to kill her, but he couldn't.  However, he could easily make her shut up.  He mashed his mouth down on hers, forcing her lips apart with his tongue.  She tried to get away from him, but his grip was vise-like.  The more she moved, the tighter his hold became.  She was certain that her forearms would be sore and bruised by morning.  He wasn't about to give up, but she was too damn stubborn to submit completely.  It wasn't that he wanted her, because she was sure he didn't.  He simply wanted to control her and forcing a kiss upon her was his way.  It was an **odd **way.  If she weren't afraid of swallowing it, she would bite off his fucking probing tongue.  As abruptly as the kiss began, it ended.  He released his iron grip and she nearly fell on her ass.  Without a word, he ducked down into his tent and disappeared from view.  She ran her finger along the bottom of her lip.  The bastard tasted like shaving cream.  She was shaken up, shaken to the tips of her toes.  It had been like that every day she was near him._

_It had been like that every day she was near him.  _Pax glanced up at Donovan and noticed that his eyes were on her and his daughter, but he wasn't _seeing _them.  Since they had been together and had gotten serious, she wondered if he ever thought about the past.  She had been brooding about that a lot lately and it had grown in intensity after Remy's wedding.  She drew in an inward groan when she thought of Remy.  It depressed her immensely because of the child she held in her lap.  She hadn't spoken to Donovan about it since the phone call early this morning, but she ached to do so.  However, she didn't think it was her place.  She was with Donovan, that was true, but she wasn't a part of that particular familial branch.  In fact, she was sure they definitely wouldn't welcome her.  By the time the story was finished, Stasia was nodding off a little and Pax gently laid down her storybook.

"Frank," she called tentatively.  When he didn't acknowledge her, she called out again, "Frankie?"

Donovan came out of his dream world and finally _saw _her.  "Sorry, Jonella.  I suppose I was drifting a bit.  There are a few things I need to take care of at the nest, but I don't intend to stay there very long.  I'm afraid everything will be upside down for the next couple of weeks.  Would you mind staying with Stasia for a couple of hours?"

"No," she said.  "It's okay.  Do what you have to do."

*  *  *

Alayna stood in the middle of the warehouse looking building the other agents called a 'nest.'  She had no idea why they called it that, but she didn't exactly understand the mentality of federal agents anyway.  She patiently waited for Frank Donovan at the conference table.  She drank a shitty tasting cup of coffee and stared down at the marred surface of the table.  Alayna didn't like walking into a situation without knowing her game plan.  She wanted to come right out and accuse Donovan right to his face, but then she would risk alienating the man.  Perhaps it would be best for her to string him along a little until he gave her the information she needed.  He might even walk right into her trap.  Most of the scum she caught wound up doing just that.  It didn't matter that he was a federal agent.  Ignorance came in all flavors.

When Donovan entered the nest, Cody didn't quite have time to tell him about the woman awaiting him at the conference table.  He spotted her long before the other man opened his mouth.  Something about her seemed familiar, but he didn't immediately get it.  The woman spied him and stood.  He watched as she slowly approached.  She was fairly tall, probably five nine or ten, and quite voluptuous.  Her shoulder length hair was flame red and cut in chunky layers.  Her eyes were a bright emerald green.  Like many redheads, her complexion was peachy and smattered here and there with freckles.  The look on her face was shrewd and serious.  Donovan scoured the recesses of his mind.  He thought he should know this woman.  After a long thoughtful moment, he had it.  She was some relative of Remy's.  She had actually been in the wedding when he married Remy, and if he wasn't badly mistaken, she had also been in Remy's most recent wedding.  What the hell was she doing here?  Surely _she _couldn't be the lieutenant detective scheduled to meet with him?  Didn't her involvement constitute a conflict of interest?

She stuck her hand out, and by reflex, Donovan took it into his.  She dropped his after a few seconds.  "Long time no see, Agent Donovan," she commented.  "I'm Detective Norwood.  I was the one you spoke with on the phone last night.  Could we possibly go to a more private location so we can talk?"

Donovan said nothing.  He simply moved toward the short flight of stairs that would lead to his office.  She mutely followed him in the same direction.  She didn't know much about Frank Donovan, but the man she saw today was quite different than the one she had seen at his wedding.  Different situations.  Different men.  Very interesting indeed.  As soon as Donovan entered his office, he took a seat at his desk and Alayna chose a chair at the side.  She'd be damned if she was going to sit on the other side of him as if she were a naughty child caught cheating on the big test.  He didn't seem perturbed by her behavior, but he was a hard one to shake.  She was up to the challenge.

"Why did you want to see me," Donovan began.  "If you are who I think you are, I'm sure you're aware that Remy and I divorced over a year ago."

She smiled inwardly.  She was playing ball on his court and he wanted to dominate the game.  _That's fine.  Very soon, I'll have you right where I want you.  _"Ah, you remember," she said.  "Yes, I was at yours and Remy's wedding.  I was also at hers to Darryl Hilton five months ago.  I know we're not supposed to release much about the murders in a case such as this, but since you're kind of a cop yourself, I think I can trust you."  _Like hell.  _"The murders were particularly…brutal.  Hilton's head was blown to pieces and Remy was nearly decapitated."  The cold bastard didn't flinch.  "Doesn't that upset you in the least?  After all, we're talking about a woman you were with for quite some time.  A woman who gave birth to your child."  She had gotten a bit carried away, but his reaction pissed her off.  

"What is your point, Detective Norwood," he asked coldly.  "You seem to be waiting for me to fall apart or break down.  Does it disappoint you that I'm calm?  It's not that I don't care or that it doesn't bother me, but right now, I'm focused on my daughter and what this will do to her.  Correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems as if you're accusing me."

Alayna smiled a little.  Reverse psychology.  She had been warned Donovan was manipulative.  Somehow, she would have to get her hands on his records.  "I think you're jumping the gun on me, Agent Donovan.  I'm not accusing you of anything.  I'm simply trying to find out who murdered the Hiltons in their home.  Seems that it was someone close to the family.  Perhaps it was someone who knew them well enough not to arouse suspicion.  It appears that Remy just let the guy right on in the home.  Ballistics hasn't come back yet, but I bet that the gun responsible for ripping Darryl's head to shreds is one of those fancy semi-automatics that you're strapped with."  She sighed heavily.  "Not that this is leading anywhere or anything, but when was the last time you actually saw Remy?"

Donovan bore his eyes into her.  He took an immediate dislike to this redheaded demon before him.  "I truly don't care for the implications you're making in your sugar-coated words, Detective, but I will answer your question.  The last time I saw Remy was approximately three weeks ago when I picked up my daughter.  At that time, there were no more than a dozen words exchanged between us.  We led separate lives and there was no need for anything more than that."

She nodded as if she understood but didn't believe him anyway.  "Okay."  She stood abruptly and began digging something out of her back pocket.  She threw a business card onto his desk.  "You can reach me at those numbers on the card.  I'm sure we'll be in touch.  Sorry for your loss.  Good day, Agent Donovan."

*  *  *

"What's eating _your _ass?"

Donovan smiled across the table at Pax.  They had ordered out for Chinese food, which he loved, but he was barely picking at his.  They had put Stasia to bed about an hour ago.  He realized that he hadn't exactly told her about his encounter with the _lovely _Detective Norwood.  "Nothing, really.  A lieutenant detective with the Chicago police thinks I murdered my ex-wife and her husband."

"Are you shitting me," she asked.

He shook his head.  "Nope, but I wish I were.  She is related to Remy in some way or another, I don't remember.  She was at mine and Remy's wedding and the one to Hilton five months ago."

Pax fixed him with a quirky stare.  He had seen it before.  Ass whipping time.  "Okay.  Where is this bitch?  Lemme at her and I'll fucking kick her ass."

Donovan laughed.  "I appreciate your support, but she's not worth it.  I'm sure that whatever curiosity stirred her to visit me has been quashed by now."

She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.  "I'm serious, Frank.  Let her do that while I'm around and she'll be missing a dozen or so of her teeth.  What the hell would make her think you would do something like that?  She's insane, and believe me, _I _know insanity."  

He waved it off.  "It's not important, Jonella."

"I told you once that I was a possessive bitch and I am," she said.  "However, I don't think I ever let you know that I can be a bit on the protective side as well.  If someone is fucking with you, they're fucking with me.  It's just like that."  With that said, she picked up her plate and carried it over to the sink.

Donovan pushed back from the table and approached her from behind before she could move away.  He pressed his body against hers.  "I know it is," he said, his voice falling in her ear.  "And I love you for it.  I'm the same.  But again, it isn't important.  It's a dumb game cops play.  I've seen it done thousands of times, as I'm sure you have as well."

"That's all well and good, Frank, but I swear I'll pummel the bitch if she ever utters a negative word to or about you in my presence.  I just want you to understand that."

"I do," he said.  He moved back just a little and took hold of her forearm.  Tugging gently, he said, "Come on.  That can wait until tomorrow.  Let's go to bed."

She smiled.  "You won't have to ask me twice."

As he led her to their bedroom, Pax wondered just how much Donovan's behavior was real and how much was just for her benefit.

**____________________**

**To be continued…**


	5. A Time To Grieve

A TIME TO GRIEVE

Pax stared at Donovan curiously.  He had just spent a trying few hours on the phone speaking first with his superiors and then with his former in-laws.  Neither conversation had gone well.  As he suspected, his superiors didn't want to give him the time off and the in-laws wouldn't give on Stasia attending the funeral.  They didn't care to listen to Donovan's side of things, they wanted their way.  Pax wanted to say something, but Donovan wasn't in the mood to talk and she wouldn't push him when he was like this.  She knew when to push his buttons and when not to.  She had long since given up trying to hurt him [on purpose, anyway].  She also noticed that Donovan wasn't looking at her.  He was studying his hands as if he thought they might detach themselves from his body and run off.  A few moments ago, he had been clenching them into fists so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.  It had been a while since she had seen him this angry.  There were only a few stunts she pulled that could compare to the anger he displayed today.

_Donovan sat out in the waiting room of a Bogotá hospital.  Pax had cursed and spat at him for several hours after he shot her.  It was the only thing he could think of to keep her from carrying out this crazy Death Angel wish of hers.  Simply kissing her wouldn't do it.  When this was over and she could walk again, he would probably lose a limb and another appendage he was quite fond of.  He thought he might need it one day if he ever decided to have a child.  He was trying to check on Pax, but she wouldn't have it.  Every time he entered her room, she screamed until hospital personnel shuttled him out.  The stubborn bitch wouldn't listen to him.  He was trying to keep her from fucking up her already fucked up life.  Didn't she care?  Did she want to eventually need a cleaning herself?  Was that her goal in life?  Was that why she joined the agency?  He didn't understand because she wouldn't give him the time of day long enough to talk to him, even when she was drunk off her ass.  He had tried many times.  He felt almost…obligated to protect her.  It was weird, but he couldn't explain it.  It seemed as if he had an innate sense that something had gone wrong somewhere in the grand scheme of things in her world.  However, there was that not talking thing.  _

_Jonella Paxton was as oily as an eel and he hated her, but he was also drawn to her like a wasp to a bright color.  Regardless of the deed, he never turned her away even when she clearly didn't want his help [which was all the time].  He butted in every damn time, knowing full well that she would refuse his help and kick his ass while she was at it.  As he stared at the floor, he was tempted to go to her room.  He hadn't been back there since she was admitted.  As crazy as it sounded, he had shot her for her own good, but she would never get that.  For now, he would give her some time to calm down before he tried talking to her again.  **Admit it Donovan, you're a pussy.  **Yes.  He was definitely a pussy, especially when it came to Jonella Paxton.  **And why is that?**  God.  He hated the little voice that persistently popped into his head without him wanting it to.  Regardless of how hard he tried, he could never get it out.  It wasn't that he loved her or wanted to have something with her [the thought of that turned his stomach…sort of], but she had prickled his nerves.  **God.  How many fucking times am I going to think that before I go incurably insane?  **He knew he should get up and leave.  There was nothing he could do for her here.  Nothing she would **allow **him to do.  If she saw him right now, she might pierce his heart with a scalpel.  If she would listen to him, she would open her eyes.  He had been faced with making the same choices that she had made.  He knew how the game was played.  Pax thought she was invincible, that nothing or no one could hurt her.  She thought she was smarter than her lead operative.  She was only half right on that.  She was smart and could get herself out of messes the average person never could, but she often underestimated the Death Angels.  Donovan wasn't supposed to know of them, but he did.  He had lost more than one partner in his tenure to them and all but one was in a grave now.  He didn't want to see Pax go out like that.  She had promise.  For God's sake, she could run the fucking agency some day if she would straighten out her act.  However, it would never happen, not in his lifetime._

_Donovan let her cool out for about two or three days and brought her a peace offering:  coffee made by his own hands.  An hour or so prior, her lead op had visited her, and he had no intention of asking what they had talked about, because she would simply tell him to mind his own fucking business.  He had ideas, of course, but he didn't know how to voice them.  It was a difficult subject to approach.  **So, Pax…do you plan on going back to taking people out for the CIA?  You are?  How nice?  Should I throw you a party for that?  What kind of cake would you like?  **It was a ridiculous thought.  Much to his surprise, Pax took the coffee and drank it without comment.  He was surprised [and happy] when she didn't throw it into his face.  It was scalding hot and he had no desire to get second-degree burns.  During the entire time she drank her coffee, he watched her carefully.  It was the first time he had ever seen her so vulnerable.  For the first time since he met her, she was actually kind of…human.  It was unsettling.  It was funny how he missed the old Pax when she suddenly became somber and normal.  It was then that he realized he would be absolutely devastated if something happened to her.  Incredible.  It was one revelation he would never voice aloud.  Pax might…hurt him.  **You pussy.**_

_After every drop of coffee was consumed, it was either talk or walk.  He wasn't ready to leave just yet, not until they had it out.  For a long moment, he stared down into the bottom of his paper cup before finally deciding to set it aside.  This was something he couldn't avoid no matter how hard he tried.  This wasn't the time to hold back.  "I realize your **other **lead op left not long before I came in," Donovan began.  "He was in here for quite some time.  Were you making plans to return?"  He watched her carefully, trying his best to gauge her reaction.  Her face was blank.  There was absolutely nothing there.  The bitch could mask her feelings better than anyone he knew._

_She focused her sapphire eyes on his face.  They were cold and angry.  "I don't see that as any of your fucking business, Frankie.  I think you best keep your fucking nose out of my business unless you want me to slice it off for you.  You'd look awfully fucked up without a nose.  I don't think many of those little girlies in the central office would cream their jeans so much then, huh?  Your fan club would dwindle down to no one."  She finished off her coffee and set her paper cup aside.  "I appreciate the gift of the coffee.  I think you made it.  This shithole certainly didn't.  Don't think for one minute that coffee is going to melt my panties or some shit.  I'll do what I want when I want.  I am not your charge or some shit.  I don't understand why the fuck you always think that."_

_He was up and out of his chair in a shot.  Pax had never seen him move so fast.  He leaned right over her, not giving one ripe fuck that he was putting pressure on her banged up legs.  She had seen him angry, of course, but not like this.  There was a fire in his eyes and the bastard was nearly snarling.  He didn't look human at all.  He looked like some fucking predator about to rip its prey apart just for shits and giggles.  She was certainly in the right place for an ass beating.  It was almost funny.  She might have laughed, but she was actually afraid to.  She had never been afraid of Frank Donovan in her life, but she could no longer say that.  It was the first time she had ever thought he might kill her.  She was close…very close…to reaching over for her call button.  Security needed to haul his ass out before he actually did some damage.  He'd shot her fucking legs.  Wasn't that fucking enough?  Jumping Jesus Christ on a fucking camel.  Hell no.  He wanted her to die.  **Well, go on ahead, Spankie.  Fucking do it and get it over with.  You've ruined my legs for a while you might as well ruin the rest of me while you're at it.  **He said something through clenched teeth, but she was so shocked to hear it that she thought she'd been hallucinating.  She could have sworn he called her "Jonella."  He never fucking called her by her first name.  She nearly asked him to repeat himself, but she knew he wouldn't._

_"I know you want to talk," he said harshly.  "But you'll keep your motor mouth shut until I'm finished with what I have to say.  Is that clear?"  He didn't give her a moment to speak.  "What you want to go back to is stupid, Jonella.  Utterly fucking stupid.  It's bad enough being a CIA patsy, but when you're one for the darker side of the agency, it's worse.  How long will they use you?  One year?  Two?  You'll never know.  They'll come in one day when you least expect it and blow your brains out.  Do you think I want to see you go out like that?  You are one of the most irritating people I have ever met, but you're also one of the best agents I've ever been partnered with.  When you play two sides, you die and you die young.  Don't do it.  Don't go back to it.  Take this time and work it out in your head.  Get out now while you can."_

_"Are you finished," she challenged, lifting her chin defiantly.  Before she gave him the chance to speak, she continued right on.  "Your heart fucking felt speech touched me, Spankie, and it nearly made me cream my panties.  I don't need a father or a keeper or a watcher.  I've never had one and now is not the time to get one.  I don't see how in the fuck you can tell me this shit with such authority when you've never done this.  You don't know.  You've never been an Angel.  Butt out, Frankie.  Butt out and let me do whatever the fuck I want to do.  I'm not and never was your responsibility."_

_"You **are**, Jonella, and you don't even realize it.  You're under my charge and every move you make is under **my **scrutiny.  Simply put, you're mine.  I don't know what I'll have to say to get this through to your fucking thick ass skull.  I wasn't an Angel, so I don't have any idea what goes on.  I **was **approached once, but I never considered it, because that job comes with a price.  You're going to pay, Pax.  You're going to pay with your life.  You're right about several things, including the fact that I'm not your father, but I am the closest thing you have to a confidante.  For once in your sorry pathetic life, trust someone, you wretched bitch.  I'm telling you what I know from experience.  I don't want to see you walk that path.  Every day you're in the hospital, I'll be on your ass until you tell me you're not going back.  You know I'll do it.  What do you want to do?  Do you want me here every day and night chewing your ass?"_

_Oh yes.  The fucker would do everything he said and more.  What could she do?  For now, she could tell him anything she wanted and he would buy it.  She could be sincere and lie creatively when she had to.  Frankie was good, but she could fuck him up, especially when he was acting like a man, and right now he was.  Keeping her eyes focused on his, she put on her best face.  It was the face she used often when she took out a unit.  It was a blank look mostly, with little emotion.  There was nothing to read.  Donovan had seen a version of it a couple of times, but this was a mere shadow of it.  "I don't want you here every day and night.  I couldn't stand to look at your fucking face.  I won't go back, you prick, but you'll have to help me."_

_No sooner than Pax was up and around, she insisted on being released from the hospital.  Donovan didn't quite trust her.  He couldn't take her back out to the jungle, of course, so he brought her back to Central where they set her up in a cushy hotel room.  Donovan hung around like an annoying mother hen and Pax had had to cuss him nine ways to hell before he would leave her alone.  It was her goal all along.  As soon as he was out of sight, she had plans to leave.  Her lead op already had an assignment for her.  So her legs were messed up.  It didn't mean she couldn't shoot.  Hell…she could shoot blindfolded.  Frankie knew her biorhythms well.  Instead of sneaking out during the wee hours of the morning [when he would expect it], she walked out right in the middle of broad daylight.  It was so easy that it was nearly stupid.  She kept looking over her shoulder, expecting to see Frankie at every corner, but he never turned up.  She hated leaving like she did, hated going back on her word, but fuck it.  She didn't owe Donovan anything.  He didn't owe **her **anything.  However, she could almost see the look on his face and she was pretty damn certain that it wasn't pretty.  It was probably ugly, vicious, and cruel._

_It was probably ugly, vicious, and cruel.  _Donovan's look was nearly as ugly, vicious, and cruel when she ditched him some years ago.  Of course, she hadn't been present to witness it.  However, today she was right up in his face.  Yet, the situation was quite different.  They were _together_ together and _engaged_ for Pete's sake.  Back then they hadn't been that fond of each other.  _That isn't true.  _They were equally fond of each other, but neither of them wanted to see and/or admit it.  It was all psychological bullshit.  She knew what her reasons were, but Donovan's were something else altogether.  _Like it matters anymore anyway_.  She watched as he stared down at his hands and worked over his bottom lip.  If he continued to chew on it, he was going to make it bleed.  She had the greatest urge to smack him, but she didn't think he would appreciate it.  Then again, now wasn't the time for the old Pax to come raging out.  She would save that for the female detective and his former in-laws.  Those were the folks who needed supreme ass whippings.  She had ruined her spike-heeled boots in Miami, but she thought she could find a pair in an S & M shop if she needed them.  _Goddamn it, Donovan, look at me and say something._

After several moments of staring and chewing, he glanced up at Pax.  "I'm sorry, Jonella.  Why do people always act like assholes when someone dies?"  He shook his head.  "They're not giving an inch on their arguments.  I realize that Stasia is-was Remy's daughter as well, but I'm not putting her through that.  I don't care what they say or what they think.  And…"  He stopped speaking suddenly.  

Pax gazed at him curiously.  He had nearly completed another thought, but he cut off his words.  What was the _and_?  The in-laws wanted Stasia to go to the funeral and…_what_?  Of course, she wasn't an idiot.  She knew what the 'and' was just as surely as she knew what size panties she wore.  "And they don't want me there," she finished for him.  "I expected as much, Frank, and it's okay.  Your ex and I never gee hawed that well.  In fact, we pretty much hated each other's guts until she found that Hilton guy.  I can understand.  It's not a big deal.  Stasia and me can stay here and tear the place apart.  Leave you a big old mess."

A ghost of a smile touched Donovan's lips.  He shook his head again.  "No, Jonella.  I love you and I want you by my side, even if I have to fight them all the way.  I don't care what they say or think."

Pax bit her tongue.  She had nearly spat out some words she might have regretted saying.  _But I'm not your wife_.  It was simple.  She _wasn't _his wife.  She was nothing more than a glorified permanent piece that wore his engagement ring.  Regardless of what he said, it wasn't her place to be by his side at the funeral of his ex-wife.  She agreed with him about not taking the kid, but she didn't think she belonged there, either.  _I'm not his wife, but it's a situation that could be remedied right quickly.  _Oh good God.  She had to get _that _thought out of her head.  She didn't want to get married.  _Or do you, Pax?  Come on, little girl.  Be honest with yourself.  Doesn't some little part of you want to?  _Hell no and hell no again.  "The tension will be bad enough, Frank.  Let me just sit this one out, okay?  I don't want to cause any more friction than is already going on.  They're already pissed off because of Stasia.  What the hell are they going to say when you waltz in there with me on your arm?  Goddamn it, Frank."

Donovan bit his tongue.  He nearly said 'you're my wife.'  However, she wasn't.  He was ever so close to once again pushing the marriage issue.  He hadn't said one word about it since he gave her the ring.  He didn't want to keep pushing her, because she might up and leave.  She had done it once and would do it again.  If he lost her now, he would go nuts.  "Don't push it, Jonella, okay?  I love you and I want you there."  

She reached out and placed her hands over his.  He grasped hers and held them tightly.  For a moment, they didn't speak at all.  Now, it was Pax's turn to chew on her lip.  There was something she wanted to say, but she couldn't say it.  She didn't want to _admit _she wanted to say it.  Oh God.  She hadn't felt like this since before she told the stupid fuck she loved him.  "You're still a stubborn asshole, you know?  You never change, even when I finally admit I love your ass.  I won't jump any of the family there, but I still want a piece of that cop."

This time, he genuinely smiled and afforded her a chuckle.  It did her heart good to hear and see that.  She hated seeing him hurt.  "I don't think you have to worry about that detective, Jonella.  She can't seriously believe that I would do something so insane," he told her.

"You damn straight you didn't.  She's a fucking idiot."

"Have I told you yet that I'm damn glad you came back from Miami," he asked.

She grinned.  "Maybe a few times.  I think you showed me how glad you are more than a few."  She bit her tongue again.  What the hell was it that she wanted to say?

**____________________**

**To be continued…**        


	6. Ridiculous Accusations

RIDICULOUS ACCUSATIONS

Donovan held Pax's arm as they entered the chapel of the funeral home.  Not sure what to expect from Remy's relatives, Pax had dressed very simply in black slacks, a white silk top, and a black jacket.  She had pulled her wild mane of hair into a tight French twist.  He didn't think anyone could say much about her appearance today.  For a moment, he focused his eyes on the two coffins set out before the mourners.  They were closed, of course.  There was no way in hell they could be open, not after what happened to them.  He led Pax over to a padded pew and the two of them sat down together.  He could feel the eyes of Remy's family on them, disapproving, and aching to say something about Stasia's lack of attendance.  However, the Ellis' weren't dysfunctional, they wouldn't say a word, but they certainly wouldn't hesitate to throw as many daggers as they could with their eyes.  For all her blustery self-confidence, Donovan knew Pax felt out of place and uncomfortable.  Hell, he did as well.  He hadn't been an 'official' part of the family in a few years.  His only tie now was his daughter.  He loved Stasia with all his heart and would lay his life down for her without a moment's hesitation, but he often wondered how far his and Remy's marriage would have lasted without her.  He had loved Remy and never doubted that.  However, after the crisis was averted and they were married, there was a slight shift in their relationship.  It was almost undetectable, but there was a definite change of some sort.  It wasn't anything either of them could readily put their fingers on.  Love had never been the problem.  It was all about compatibility.  If it hadn't been, he wouldn't be sitting beside Jonella Paxton right now.  His mind drifted to his confrontation with the red-haired menace, and the fact that she completely expected him to break down.  It wasn't that he didn't feel upset or sad, he did.  He simply didn't love her in the same way and hadn't since she left him.  _Face it, you ass.  Your **love **changed the instant Pax waltzed into the room.  You denied it…denied **her**…for months before you saw the light.  Aren't women supposed to be the fickle ones?_  He didn't know.  How the hell was he supposed to act?  What was he supposed to do?  He sighed and felt Pax's hand tightening its hold on his.  He glanced at her and noticed that she was asking him with her eyes if he was okay.  Was he?  For the hundredth time, he wanted to kick himself for dragging Pax and Remy along with him in the deep mire of his confusion.  Maybe he should have made a move back when she was still in the hospital, at her most vulnerable.  Hadn't he had feelings for her back then?  It would have been easy enough, he supposed, but he wasn't sure she would have gone for it.  Not with her past.  Yet, if she had, maybe none of this would have happened.  Maybe Remy would still be alive somewhere, happy.  Maybe the horrid tension, arguments, tears, and hatred wouldn't have happened.  Of course, Stasia wouldn't have happened, either.  He was certain that he wouldn't have traded a thing for his daughter.

The rustle of activity toward the back caught Donovan's attention.  He turned his head only slightly and noticed Detective Norwood making her way up the aisle.  Unlike the first time she had introduced herself, she was wearing a black dress and had her fire red hair pulled up in a style very similar to Pax's.  While the other members of the family chose to ostracize the couple, Norwood did nothing of the sort.  She moved up to a pew directly across from theirs.  Without the slightest hesitation, she sat down and crossed her legs.  Her poison green eyes met Donovan's and she lifted her eyebrow quizzically.  He was startled when he realized that the bitch was _smirking _at him.  What the hell did she think she was doing?  It would take perhaps five minutes to find her precinct, less than one to approach her captain, and half that time to boot her ass to the concrete.  They played the staring game until Remy's father drew Norwood's attention away.  He wanted the girl to 'sit with the family.'  He didn't remove his eyes from her form until she was completely out of eyeshot.  Beside him, he felt Pax's body tensing up.  _Jesus, she must have picked up on that.  Duh.  How could she not?  _He turned to look at her and she desperately wanted to speak, but he was shaking his head.  Now was not the time.  They could do this later.  He could sense from Pax's body language that she wanted to get up and speak to the girl up close and personal.  This wasn't going to be easy.  Norwood would bait Pax and she'd take every bite without backing down.  It was the type of scene the Ellis' would enjoy seeing, actually.  It would validate their hatred for him even more.  When she saw the look in his eyes, Pax settled back.  She had honed her self-control skills over the months, but it wouldn't take much for her to get off track.  All he had to do was think back to what she did to Keith Ahiga and that horrid singer in his club.  Donovan wondered vaguely if this day would ever end.

Another guest entered at that moment, but most of the mourners already seated were a bit too distracted to notice.  Unlike the rest of the crowd, he stayed in the back.  He didn't exactly want to be noticed.  Not today.  It was bad form.  After all, it wasn't nice for the killer to attend the funeral of his victims, now was it?  There weren't many people in attendance, but that didn't surprise him.  Not many people were on friendly terms with Darryl Hilton.  He was a bit of a snob.  His wife seemed to be in the same category.  He recognized a couple of faces.  One of them was a cop.  The other was some type of federal agent or some shit.  Oh yeah.  Hilton's wife had been married to him before, hadn't she?  He sat back on the pew and didn't try to bring attention to himself.  That would have been very bad, very bad indeed.  He intended to be out of here way before it was all over.  He didn't want to be seen leaving the scene of the crime.

By the time the service was over, Donovan was ready to go.  He didn't want to follow the family members to the graveside service.  He also wanted to avoid Alayna Norwood.  Considering that she _was _family, he thought she might follow the rest of them to the cemetery.  He felt Pax's resistance, her urge to put on the brakes.  She wanted to talk, damn it, and talk right now.  They had gotten out to the car and Donovan watched as the other cars followed suit behind the hearses.  He hoped that the detective was in one of those cars.  He still hadn't said a word to Pax.  He wanted to get into the car and get the hell out of here.  He had his hand on the passenger side door handle when Pax finally slapped her hand over his.  A clear thought was transmitted to him almost as clearly as if she had spoken it:  _Cut the shit.  _Donovan took his hand off the door handle and moved back a few steps.  Pax was leaning up against the door with her arms crossed before her.

"The bitch," she said.  "The one with the red hair.  Is that the one who is trying to pin this murder on you?"  Donovan said nothing, but she could see it in his face.  If he gave her an affirmative answer, he knew she would be on the bitch like white on rice.  He didn't want to argue with her or talk about it.  It was clearly written on his face, but she didn't give a shit.  She wanted to know.  "If she is related to this family, why is she working this case?  She shouldn't be touching this and I don't appreciate the fact that she's trying to say you killed your ex and her husband.  I want to talk to her.  I want to talk to her and find out what the fuck she's thinking, what's going on in her mind."

"No, Jonella," he said, shaking his head.  "You don't want to do anything of the sort.  You want to push her buttons and start a fight.  I don't think that's a great idea right now.  It would only serve to fuel the fire."  Her jaw was set and she hadn't moved an inch.  She had gone from slightly irritated to pissed in nanoseconds.  "I'm sorry, but you know it's the truth.  I know your mindset as well as you know mine.  I don't want any more trouble to arise because of this.  I'm sure that after her initial meeting with me, she marked me off her list."

"Now I wouldn't say that," a voice said from behind.  Alayna watched as Donovan and his girlfriend turned to look at her.  She hadn't caught much of the conversation.  In fact, she had actually lucked out catching the couple.  She had been on her way out the side door when she heard voices.  She had come from around the building to catch the last few sentences of Donovan's touching speech to his lover.  Perhaps she would show the squeeze a few of the crime scene photos.  Maybe the carnage would sober her up some.  Not many people were cold-hearted enough to pull off such a horrid murder while digging around the refrigerator and eating.  Donovan was cold enough.  Surely, the girlfriend must know this.  "No one is off the list until I have my suspect in cuffs.  That's how the police business works, you know," she said with a snarky little smile.  She watched as the girlfriend huffed and then Donovan moved closer to her, taking hold of her arm.  What was she going to do?  Pass out?  Have the vapors?  "I'm truly looking forward to speaking with you again, Agent Donovan."  She focused her eyes on the woman.  "And who might you be?  I mean, your name, of course.  I realize that you and Agent Donovan here are…_friends_."

Pax felt Donovan's hand squeezing her arm tighter and tighter.  The bastard was beginning to hurt her.  Who did this bitch think she was?  She wasn't some empty headed bimbo about to take shit from some red-haired whore with a corncob up her ass.  Oh hell no.  She _would _say something and then deal with the consequences later.  "If you're such an adept investigator, you should know that by now," she said sweetly.  Donovan's hand abruptly loosened.  He had lost the battle, so there was no need to keep pinching her arm.  "Your hunches are about as sharp as a butter knife and I don't think that you need to hang around for very much longer.  I'm beginning to lose my temper.  When I lose it, I lose it big, and I'd hate to mess up your hair today," she said through clenched teeth.  "So if you don't mind, get your snotty attitude, ugly red hair, and mangy ass out of my sight before my high heel becomes quite intimate with your anus."

Expecting a 'Remy reaction,' Alayna recoiled slightly, but not enough to let them know she was shaken.  Perhaps she would dig up some information on her as well.  Was she some kind of Fed like Donovan?  If so, she could have had a hand in the murders.  She was actually pissed enough to slap the handcuffs on the woman now.  After all, she had actually made an open threat to a police officer.  However, she didn't want to get either of them on something small.  "Like I said," she began.  "I'll be in touch."  

Donovan and Pax watched as Norwood turned away and disappeared around the building.  A few moments later, they heard a car peeling out of the parking lot, likely throwing a truckload of gravel.  Pax was still completely livid, but not so oblivious that she had forgotten Donovan standing beside her.  Now it was time for him to kill her.  Perhaps she could get a word or two in before he wrapped his hands around her throat.  "I'm sorry, but I couldn't help it.  I can't believe the shit she was throwing at you.  How can you take it?  God, I would have been on her in three seconds flat."  She stared down at the gravelly parking lot.  She kicked at a pebble and sent it flying.  She was afraid to look at him.  She had shown her ass today and maybe she deserved a bitching.  "Go ahead, Frank," she said.  "Blow up.  Let me have it."  He said nothing.  Instead, he grabbed hold of the door handle, moving her body along as the door came open.  She climbed into the car and watched as he went to the drivers' side.  When he got in behind the wheel, she glanced at him.  His face was blank.  There was nothing.  No emotion.  She didn't like this.  She didn't like this at all.

They went home and Donovan relieved the babysitter, again speaking as little as possible.  He listened as the sitter told him that Stasia had just conked out for her afternoon nap.  He then went into the kitchen and dug around in one of the high cabinets for a glass.  She knew the type he was scrounging for.  She called them the 'booze' glasses.  Almost like a puppy dog, she followed him into the kitchen.  Without a word, he set one out on the counter and went to the refrigerator.  Shocked, she watched as he dug into the freezer and pulled out the bottle of vodka she kept tucked in there for special occasions.  What the hell?  Donovan didn't like vodka.  He poured some into the glass, debated for a moment, and then poured more.  He replaced the bottle, closed the refrigerator door, and took his drink back over to the counter.  Leaning against the counter, he took a long gulp from the glass and grimaced as the liquid went down his throat.  They had fought with fists and words many times, but never had he given her the silent treatment.  She would have preferred that he beat the living shit out of her.  Anything was better than this.  How many times had he put his ass on the line for her?  She was only returning the favor.  No.  That wasn't exactly it.  Some idiot cop had insulted the man she loved and she was pissed.  Simply put, she acted like a woman.  He finished off the vodka and put the glass in the sink.  For a moment, he didn't move away.  He leaned over the sink and gripped the edges until his knuckles turned white.  Goddamn.  How would she drag him out of this?

"Frank?  Say something.  Anything.  Chew me out.  Call me names.  Do _something_.  I let her push me and I snapped, but I can't help it.  I do that a lot where you're concerned," she said softly.

"I remember now why I hate vodka," he said quietly.  "It tastes like shit."  He turned to face her.  "I'm glad you love me enough to vehemently defend me like you did today, but I think it only piqued her interest instead of knocking it back.  I'm not sure why she has her sights on me and I don't care.  Whatever she digs up will only lead her to the same brick walls over and over again.  Let her waste her time.  It's all she has.  I don't care about her or what she does or what she says.  It's a game cops play.  You know that.  I can't control what you do or say.  God only knows I've tried, but you've been slightly stubborn," he commented lightly.  "You're wasting your breath, Jonella.  Besides, she's all bark and no bite."

Pax sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.  "She made me think of myself when I was younger.  Was I _that_ bad?"

He smiled a little.  "No.  You were much worse," he said.  "You had bite, though.  You could back it up.  She won't ever."

"She is nothing like her relatives, but she was sort of pretty if you're into girls," she said vaguely, lowering her head.  "I really did see myself in her.  Well, except for the sort of pretty stuff.  If…well…you know…she's around, maybe you would start feeling about her how you feel about me, since she's like me.  She was…maybe…eyeballing you.  I don't know if you're into her or anything, but…"  Oh hell.  She couldn't finish.  Part of her wanted to let him know she didn't want him to waste the rest of his life on her.  The other part wanted to suggest they fly to Vegas and just…do it.

Donovan stared at her incredulously.  "What the hell are you saying?"  He approached her and slid his finger beneath her chin.  He raised her head so that she was looking at him.  "I love you," he said.  "I want…to be with you."  He had had to bite his tongue again.  He had truly wanted to say 'I want to marry you.'  She would have _loved _that.  "Can I say something mushy to you?"

She looked up at him and found a wry smile curling her lips.  "When have you _not_ said something mushy to me?  I'm surprised you asked first.  Hell, Donovan."

His smile expanded and he placed a gentle kiss on her lips.  "Although I would have rather pounded a nail into my eye than admit it aloud, I knew I loved you the day I came to you at the hospital.  You remember?  The day when I scared the shit out of you?  I kept it buried, I moved on, but I never forgot you.  Fate has funny ways of intervening in a man's life, and not once did I ever expect this to happen to us.  But it did and I've never regretted it.  So when you have stray thoughts such as you voiced moments ago, keep that in mind won't you?"

As was her custom, she took a serious situation and turned it around.  "You really need to find a hobby," she told him.  "You ruminate far too much."

Pax stepped back and turned away.  He watched as she made her way upstairs, waiting several moments before following her lead.  By the time he made it upstairs, she had come out of the suit and had taken down her hair.  The tightness of the twist was giving her a massive headache.  Before long, she had donned an oversized tee shirt and a pair of shorts.  Today, she was tired.  She considered taking her own afternoon conk out.  She heard Donovan moving about the room, likely changing as well.  He crawled into bed behind her and she was a little disappointed when she realized that he was dressed.  No fair.  He wasn't supposed to climb in behind her unless he was butt naked.  Hadn't he learned anything yet?

He enveloped her body with his.  Moving her hair away from her ear, he whispered, "I know you had issues with going today, but thank you for being there."

"Jesus, Donovan," she groaned.  "How many fucking times have you been there for me?  It's because I love you and shit," she said, her voice muffled by her pillow [as was usual].

Much, much later, it might have been two or three in the morning.  Pax wasn't sure.  She couldn't sleep, that was the only thing she was sure of.  As soon as Stasia awoke, she had asked about her mother.  She knew it was right about time for her to go see her again.  Donovan had skirted around the issue, of course, and said later that he had felt like a shit for lying to her.  It wouldn't be an easy thing to explain to a child, especially one so young.  She wouldn't see Mommy again.  But Stasia wouldn't take those words and go.  She would ask why.  Donovan had tossed and turned a good three hours before finally slipping off into a deep sleep.  Pax did everything she could think of to bore herself to sleep, but nothing worked.  Thinking 'fuck it,' she strolled back over to the bed and climbed back in.  After trying for the umpteenth time to go to sleep, she finally leaned up on one elbow and watched Donovan sleep.  Was he truly asleep?  She reached out and ran a finger along his arm.  There was no movement.  She did the same thing to his ear.  Again, he didn't move.  

"What would you say if I told you I loved you back then too," she said suddenly.  "What would you say if I told you I wanted to get married?  Would you believe it?"

**____________________**

**To be continued…**                                 


	7. Was It All A Dream?

**WAS IT ALL A DREAM?**

Believing that he would be suffering from a massive headache, Donovan decided to sleep in the next day.  Stress did funky things to his body and this morning, it had decided to hypnotize him.  All night long, he had been having strange dreams.  They weren't nightmares, exactly, but they were unsettling.  In them, Pax was acting like someone else altogether.  He had never seen her like this in waking hours, but then, she wasn't _like _this anyway.  Throughout the 'night' in his dream state, he had seen her move back and forth between the bed and the window.  He wasn't sure how many times she had made this trip, but she was completely wearing him out just watching her.  Eventually, she had settled on the bed.  She had begun to caress his arm and then ran her finger along his ear.  She had whispered something to him, the words were obscured, but he could have sworn she had admitted that she, too, had loved him all those years ago.  Better still, she had confessed that she was ready to get married.  That last bit was what convinced him that it had all been a dream.  Pax would spend eternity denying his proposals.  It was insane of him to think it could have happened outside the realm of sleep.  _I'm acting like a naïve little boy.  How many times have I asked?  How many times has she said no?_  He could live with it.  He could live with _her_, without the benefit of being married, if it meant he'd never lose her.  

Donovan shifted position just a bit and glanced at Pax.  He had expected to find her in bed, because she was not one to rise early unless forced.  She was sprawled out on her stomach, one arm beneath her body, the other stuffed under her pillow.  _How the hell does she sleep like that_?  In her sleep, her hand came out from under the pillow, and she scratched her nose.  He smiled at that, reveling in the sheer wonder that was this woman.  There was so much he had learned about her, but so much more still to be discovered.  How many lifetimes would it take?  He thought again of the dream and wished a thousand times that it had been real.  He reached out and touched her arm.  She mumbled incoherently in her pillow, but his gentle touch didn't let up.  He wanted her to wake up and didn't want to go about it in a subtle manner.  Any moment now, she would open her eyes and curse at him.  It was almost a ritual with them.  Both seemed to be afraid to let a day go by without it happening.  _Superstitious much?  _Her eyelids came open slowly and she focused her sapphire eyes on his face.  He could almost count the seconds.  _Witless fuck.  Let's have it.  I'm waiting.  _He was a little startled when she said nothing.  She only looked at him.  Donovan was no mind reader, but if he were, he would realize that Pax was freaking out a little.  She wondered if he had heard what she said last night.  _What would be so bad about it if he did?  It's what you want, isn't it?  When have you been afraid of anything in your life?  _She noticed that he was looking at her curiously.  At first, she didn't get it.  However, it only took a moment.  Normally when he woke her up, she cursed at him, rolled over, and then went back to sleep.  Instead of following routine [the time for it had passed], she leaned toward him and kissed him.  

Pax had meant for the kiss to be soft and gentle.  After all, she had every intention of going back to sleep.  She was no fan of morning nookie.  There were so many things to hate about it:  morning breath, drool on the pillow, morning wood that was really only a result of a need to piss [not to get off], and maybe even a stray bed fart.  Hell, it just never felt right.  Yet this morning, it didn't quite work that way.  None of it entered her mind at that moment when the kiss deepened and he slipped his tongue into her mouth.  She felt the familiar, comforting weight of his body leaning over hers, and she again wondered how the hell he could look so good in the morning when she always looked like shit.  It just wasn't fair.  He always slept in the buff, keeping a robe and pajama bottoms handy just in case his daughter needed him in the night.  Of course, last night was no exception.  Her attire consisted of shorts and a tee shirt, but she could feel him against her.  Morning wood or not, this morning, it was meant for her.  It didn't take a rocket scientist to do the math.  This bastard truly loved her.  He was an idiot.  A big fucking idiot.  He _didn't _know what he was getting himself into, regardless of what he said.  She was too selfish to let him go, too selfish to let him have a half decent life.  Her past would haunt him for the rest of his life.  He didn't deserve that.  No one did.  Yet, she couldn't let go.  Her claws were sunk in deeply, so deeply that she thought it would take superhuman powers to dig them out.  She had never wanted to feel like this about him, but what the hell could she do about it?  Absolutely nothing and the fucking bastard knew this.  Maybe he _was _psychic. 

It wasn't often that she was passive in their lovemaking, but this morning was one of those rare days.  He threw the covers off their bodies and stripped her out of her sleepwear.  Although she thought it was virtually impossible, he seemed to have touched and tasted every inch of her within moments.  However, when he made love to her, there never seemed to be _enough _time.  She let him have his way with her without offering a single touch or move.  She didn't think he minded the switch.  Albeit, it was different, but nice.  When he entered her, damn if she didn't feel like a virgin again.  She gasped aloud at the sensual invasion as if she hadn't expected it.  Her arms came up around him as he moved within her slowly.  For some reason, she felt that he wouldn't pick up the pace at all.  He would move slowly, torturing her, forcing her to become more and more selfish.  Needy.  Clingy.  She couldn't stand it.  She reached her peak many, many times before he had even gotten halfway close to his own.  When he did meet his release inside her, he didn't move away from her.  Instead, he leaned his body on his elbows, keeping it connected to hers.  She didn't want him to move.  She _never _wanted him to move.  In the throes of climax, he had lowered his head, and when he raised it, his mouth covered hers for a deep kiss.  After it was broken, he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.  As he had done countless times, he gazed at her with those hypnotic eyes of his, conveying to her every ounce of love in him.  As she answered him with her own gaze, she bit into her lower lip.  She had said the words last night and she was ready to say them again this morning.  In the end, she lost her nerve.  It was all wrong.  All of it.  But she couldn't let him go no matter how hard she tried.

An hour or so later, Pax sat at the kitchen table nursing a cup of decaf.  Stasia was seated directly across from her.  Donovan had fixed her a bowl of cereal, but she was playing with it more than eating it.  Donovan had also announced he was cooking them breakfast, but she didn't know if she could eat.  She was a little sick at her stomach.  For the first time in months, she began to feel the familiar sensation of itchy feet.  Maybe she could leave one morning just after the kid went off to preschool and Donovan the nest.  She would give it a week or so and then do one of her famous fades.  It was the only way out.  It was the only way she could… _what?  _Run?  What the hell was she thinking?  She didn't want to do that again.  What good would it do?  He could track her down.  Hadn't he done so in Miami?  Hadn't he done so _after _Miami?  Stupid.  She was fucking stupid and Donovan even more so for loving her like he did.  She wasn't aware that he had approached the table until he set a plate before her.  It was some type of overstuffed omelet.  Her stomach did another flip-flop roll.  She couldn't eat that.  No way in hell.  From the periphery of her vision, she watched as he sat down with his own plate.  Stasia began to babble at her father, immediately drawing his attention away from her.  _Good.  He hasn't noticed.  Thank God for distractions.  _She could give it a good three minutes before leaving the table.  

Finally convincing his daughter to _eat _the cereal instead of making crop circle designs on the table, Donovan fixed his eyes on Pax.  She was dragging her fork across the omelet, making small horizontal lines down it.  Oddly, it seemed as if she were trying to disembowel it.  She thought he hadn't noticed.  He had, in fact, been watching her all morning.  He wouldn't approach it blatantly, because she would only resist him.  Perhaps he could use some evasive maneuvers.  "Last night, I had a very vivid, but strange dream."  She didn't move, breathe, or blink.  "I dreamt that you kept pacing about the bedroom, mumbling to yourself.  You crawled into bed with me, touched my arm, and my ear.  You said that you loved me at the time I realized I loved you.  What was stranger still, I thought I heard you say you were ready to get married."

_Jesus jumping Christ on a fucking camel.  He was awake.  He was awake and fucking tricked me like he's been tricking me from day one.  I remember how he tricked me into admitting I loved him.  He did it again when he gave me this massive engagement ring.  And I'll be fucked if he didn't do it again.  _She was angry, but didn't want to lose her cool, especially not in front of the kid.  It wouldn't be pretty.  "Yeah," she said as she took a sip of coffee.  "That _was _a dream.  I can't see that happening.  I can't hear myself saying something like that," she said nonchalantly.  She thought she should take a bite of the omelet for good measure, but her stomach wouldn't accept it.  No digestive pyrotechnics today.  Uh uh.  Hell no.  She hated to puke worse than anything.  "You had a hell…er…heck of a stressful day and it can do crazy sh…stuff to you."  God.  She had to watch her language.  She still wasn't accustomed to having a child around.

"I thought as much," he said.  He had suddenly lost his own appetite.  In a way, he was disappointed that it was a dream.  He thought that maybe, just _maybe_, it would explain her behavior this morning.  But it was so vivid.  So real.  He had felt the touch of her hand, the tickle of her finger.  _The hell with this.  We've been living together for months.  Why the hell **wouldn't **she marry me?  She's putting up a wall just like she always does.  _It was time to do some construction work.  He would knock every damn one of them down.  He was concerned, because he recognized the symptoms.  She wanted to flee, but he had no earthly idea why.  This was not the same woman he had just made love to.  "You're distant today," he began.  "What is it?"

_You've caught me in a lie!  _She had hurt him in some way.  She knew this.  She could see it in his eyes.  _Of course I have.  He apparently heard what I said and I'm sitting here denying it.  Same old Pax.  Same old games.  I thought I was finished with games, but I guess not.  _"Yesterday just weirded me out," she told him.  "The whole thing with that cop messed me up, that's all."  She had finally managed to tear open the omelet and could see the contents.  Any other day, she might have found it appetizing as hell.  This morning, the eggs, cheese, peppers, mushrooms, and beef strips looked like intestines.  If she didn't vomit today, it would be a miracle.  "I'm sorry.  I guess I'm not hungry."

"Neither am I," he said suddenly.  "Not anymore."  Without a word, he picked up their plates and carried them over to the sink.  He tossed their breakfast down the garbage disposal and set the plates aside for later.  It was nearly nine and Stasia was still in her pajamas.  He thought about keeping her home today, but it would only be for selfish reasons.  Besides, he was still a chicken shit.  He didn't want to answer any of her questions about her mother, not just yet.  Leaving Stasia's mess for now, he approached her and lifted her out of her booster.  "Come on, love, it's time to go to school."

Donovan entered the kitchen after sending off his daughter and saw that the non-domestic goddess had taken it upon herself to clean up the crop circles and start the dishwasher.  Something was definitely eating away at her.  She simply didn't do this type of stuff.  He didn't think she had heard him enter, because she stood at the sink, blankly gazing out of the tiny kitchen window.  He approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist.  She tensed up slightly for the briefest of moments but relaxed when she recognized his touch.  In kind, she wrapped her arms around his.  He bit his bottom lip.  Bit it hard.  The words 'let's get married' bubbled up to the surface in an almost uncontrollable flood.  He fought it back and won.  If she hadn't bolted in his short absence, perhaps she wouldn't.  But if he were to say the 'M' word, it might make her leave.  He could leave it alone.  He loved her and was perfectly happy with the way their relationship was working.  Why did he want to say something stupid to ruin it all?  Again, he knew he would forgo marriage to have her.  It wasn't important.  They, as humans, had so little time on the planet.  The funerals yesterday had definitely been a wake up call.  _Don't turn your back on the woman you love.  Don't deny her.  If you do, tomorrow, she may be gone, and you'll never forgive yourself_.  

"I'm sorry," she said.  "I'm pretty damn sure I kicked you when you were down, didn't I?"  He said nothing.  Instead, he placed a moist kiss on the side of her throat.  _I'm sorry I lied to you.  I'm sorry I keep playing this idiotic game.  I don't know what's wrong with me, but I'm not enough.  I'll **never **be enough.  Some day, you'll see that.  _"I'm just so damn sorry about everything.  But I'm truly sorry I can't be the kind of woman you need right now.  I wish I could be her, but I can't.  You have an out, Donovan.  Any time you want it, just say so."

He tightened his hold about her and kissed her throat again.  "I don't want out.  Remember what I said last night?  Stop this talk about me wanting out.  I don't want to hear it again.  I didn't want the dream I had to bring this about.  I shouldn't have told you.  I wasn't aware of how it sounded until the words left my mouth."

_It wasn't a dream you witless fuck_.  He was so confused right now that he didn't know what he wanted.  **_Now _**_look who's trying to be psychic.  How do you know?  Have you asked him?  You've lied to him, you know.  You said you would never lie to him again, but you did.  _Goddamn that lady cop.  The bitch had fucked her up beyond all recognition.*  If Norwood had stayed away from them, perhaps she wouldn't have sat up half the night lamenting and then spouting off a bunch of shit she was too scared to back up.  Oh hell no.  Not Jonella Paxton.  She had to put her foot in her mouth and chew on the fucking thing.  Of course, what else could be expected from her?  "No.  I'm glad you told me.  I dream like that sometimes, I just don't remember enough to tell.  Mine aren't so…vivid, I guess.  Don't ever apologize for telling me something like you did."  _Especially since I said it.  I wish I could admit it._  "Could you let me go now?  I can't breathe."

He chuckled and gave her one last kiss to the side of her throat.  "I love you, too."

*  *  *

"Daddy, look," Stasia said.

Donovan turned his attention toward his daughter.  She was sprawled belly down on the floor and had created some great artistic design she wanted to share with her father.  Although his joints and muscles would protest loudly, he got down on the floor with her, crossing his legs before him.  Almost immediately, she crawled onto his lap.  She held out her picture and began to explain what it was.  He was trying to listen, but he was distracted.  He had yet to say anything to her about her mother.  Sometimes he truly didn't like himself that much.  Was it so wrong of him to want to protect her from the harsh realities of life for as long as possible?  She was so young.

"Want to show Mommy now," she said, breaking through his daze.

He closed his eyes for a moment.  Jesus.  He couldn't hide from her anymore.  "Baby," he began as he smoothed her blonde hair out of her face, "You can't."

She looked up at him, the confusion evident in her violet eyes.  "But I want to show Mommy," she repeated patiently, as if he hadn't heard her.

Her bottom lip had begun to tremble.  He had seen this a dozen times.  Daddy had denied her, and when that happened, she was about to become one unhappy camper.  However, this situation was so much more serious and heartbreaking.  There might be lots of crying, but no temper tantrums…not tonight.  "Anastasia," he said.  Pax had been right.  Remy picked out the name.  He had been too goofy in love with the tiny little being squirming in his arms to argue with her about it.  "You can't.  Mommy is gone, baby."  Jesus Christ, he had never been so fucking choked up in his life.  "Mommy is gone, but you can show me and Donnie anything at any time.  You can take it to your Auntie Ren, Grandma, and Grandpa.  Mommy won't see you anymore, not in the same way."  She didn't understand, but then, he didn't expect her to.

Not dropping her picture, she leaned up and pressed a finger against his cheek, catching a tear as it rolled down.  He hadn't been aware he was crying.  "Mommy gone?  Mommy bye bye?"

In Stasia terms, 'gone' meant out of town.  She had no idea of the finality involved here.  "Yes, baby," he said.  "Mommy's gone."

*  *  *

Donovan thought he might find Pax in bed when he came upstairs, but she wasn't.  Well…sort of.  She was actually sitting up on top of the covers, pretending to read a book.  He saw the blank look on her face and knew instantly that she had been listening to his conversation with Stasia.  She stared at the page a good two minutes without turning the page.  He wouldn't have minded her listening in.  In fact, he _wanted _her there, but she balked, calling it a 'family thing.'  _All you have to do is say yes, Jonella, and it's done.  _"I know you were listening.  I saw your shadow by the door.  I could have used your strength tonight."

She closed the book and looked up at him.  "I was listening," she admitted a little shamefacedly.  "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I think you handled it fine.  You did a hell of a lot better than I could ever imagine doing myself."  She turned away for a moment as she tossed the book aside.  She fixed her eyes on him again.  "Are you okay?"

He nodded.  "I'm okay."  He came down on the bed beside her.  Reaching out, he traced a neat line over her bent knee and then down her bare leg.  "You don't like the mushy stuff, but I'll risk my spleen yet again to say that you _are _in this with me all the way whether you realize it or not.  There is an _us_ here.  You've never had anyone in your life so steadily before, and I can understand some of your reluctance."

She glanced at him, tilting her head ever so slightly.  "And this psychoanalysis is due to what?"

"You can truly be hard headed sometimes," he commented lightly.  "What I'm saying is that when you back away from something because it's a 'family thing,' you're backing away from _us_.  I know you understand that.  It's your old way.  Here lately, I've seen a lot of the old you coming out to play.  Do you want to tell me what's going on?  Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't _know_ what's going on," she said.  "If I did, I'd tell you, but I don't.  I'm sorry."  _Here we go again.  _She didn't want to turn this into a full-blown argument.  She damn well knew what was going on.  Damn it to hell, she would be so glad when he left for the nest tomorrow morning.  The idea of leaving again was an attractive one.  She placed her hand over his the moment it made its sloping ascent up her leg.  She shifted positions to lie facing him.  "I'm truly sorry.  I've screwed up a lot, I know, but I love you.  I want you to remember that whenever I fuck up bad enough to enrage you.  I do it all for you, even when you don't realize it."

"Jonella, are you planning to leave?  I may be paranoid, but this sounds like a goodbye," he said.

"I've thought of it," she admitted.  "You don't know what's good for you sometimes, even when hit on the head with it.  I don't think I can ever give you all that you need.  We've gone round and round about this.  I think about doing it every day, sometimes twice a day, but I never manage to get one thing packed.  I _can't _go.  I _can't_.  It used to be so easy for me and I never gave it a second thought."

"Maybe you can't go because you're supposed to stay," he said.  "Have you ever given any thought to that idea?  Maybe you're supposed to live with me for the rest of your life.  Think about that.  Think _hard_.  Don't run.  Don't do that again."

_Maybe you're supposed to live with me for the rest of your life.  _Maybe?  She had opened her mouth, spilled the beans, and told him exactly what she was planning to do.  She was a fucking idiot.  _But I don't want to go_.  "I won't.  I _can't_.  I told you."

Pax spent another sleepless night in bed, but this time, she didn't utter any words that would start another fight.  However, she spent a good bit of time staring at her left hand, playing with the engagement ring, and twisting the silver band around her finger repeatedly.  Donovan's words haunted her for the rest of the night:  _Maybe you're supposed to live with me for the rest of your life._

**_____________________**

To be continued… 

***FUBAR—Fuck Up Beyond All Recognition.  Reference from _Tango & Cash_.  NO infringement intended.  I just thought it was a hell of a line!  ****J**     


	8. Suspects

SUSPECTS

Donovan overslept the next morning.  Some time in the night, Pax had shut off the alarm clock and he had been so wiped out, that he couldn't wake up on his own.  When he entered the nest, he heard the usual bustle of activity.  He could hear Cody's voice drifting from the consoles toward the heart of the room.  He was probably telling his bad jokes while the rest of them were groaning aloud at their corniness.  He wasn't sure if any of them knew if he would be in today.  As he drew closer, he realized that there was an extra voice, one not quite belonging to a member of the team.  As soon as the others came into view, he couldn't suppress an audible groan.  Detective Norwood.  What the hell was she doing back?  Hadn't she caused enough of a scene at the funeral yesterday?  What else did she want to do?  Grill his team for information?  Donovan grew even more irritated when he noticed that Jake was nearly panting over her.  Did he have any sense at all?  Once again, she focused all her attention on him and smiled brightly.  _Perhaps I should have allowed Pax to acquaint your anus with the heel of her shoe.  _Donovan didn't step any closer to her.  He kept a good space of floor between them before crossing his arms before his chest.  His reluctance to approach the detective didn't dissuade her movements at all.  She turned toward him, her hands stuffed into the back pockets of her jeans.  Somehow, she felt the need to show him her service revolver snuggly holstered beneath her arm.  Perhaps he should show her his?  _Who has the biggest gun?  Is that the game you're playing today?_  She was clearly trying to use intimidation to get her way.  He could almost see her interrogating suspects this way.  He had no time for her.  They were up to their elbows in work and they still had the Draper case to crack.  

"What do you want," Donovan asked coldly.

"Well, what I want is simple, Agent Donovan.  I had to go through hell to get the clearance, but I've obtained a couple of search warrants.  One here and the other for your nice little uptown loft.  I hope your girlfriend won't mind being interrupted during her morning toilette?  I'm waiting for some reinforcement and then we'll proceed."  She had chosen the nest.  There was no way she wanted to face the girlfriend, not after their _encounter _yesterday.  "First, there are a few things I would like to discuss with you.  We can do this out here all nice and public, or we can dismiss ourselves to your office.  I don't care which way we do it.  Do you?"

Donovan said nothing.  He turned away from his team and silently tromped upstairs.  Norwood kept her glittering smile and followed him.  He didn't ask her to sit, because frankly, he didn't give a fuck about politeness.  He sat down behind his desk and again crossed his arms over his chest.  The detective sat directly across from him, nursing her search warrant as if it were the Constitution.  Perhaps to her, it was.  He wanted to reach for the phone, give Pax a call, and warn her.  She would still be in bed and she was far from a morning person.  He was afraid Pax might do and/or say something that would land her ass behind bars.  She had been treading a fine line yesterday when she threatened Norwood.  "What is this you want to discuss?  I have no time for you.  If I am one of your suspects, arrest me and have done with it.  I'm tired of seeing your face every time I turn a corner.  I'm also not far from picking up the phone and discussing this harassment with your captain.  I don't see how you wound up on this case, how you stay on it."

"Oh ho, now _you're _threatening me.  Just one more thing to add to my extensive list of your strange behaviors."  Without hesitating, she dug out a small notepad from her back pocket and flipped it open.  She began scribbling into it.  [_She's fucking insane_, Donovan thought.]  "First one, of course, being a lack of emotion at hearing that the mother of your child was murdered.  Yesterday, you were pretty iron faced as well.  Of course, you had your lover beside you, and we can't make her jealous, now can we?"  She closed the notepad and glanced at Donovan.  His eyes had never changed shades.  They were cold and black, reminding her of those black holes in space she had read about as a kid.  "As far as my working on this case, Agent Donovan, Remy and I weren't close cousins.  Maybe third or fourth.  Hell, I can't keep up.  She was a snot, but family.  I can separate my job from my private life.  You're not so good at that, are you?"  Thoughtfully, she tapped her chin with her ink pen.  "I know you're wondering how I know this stuff.  Well, I've been digging around in your records.  You've had quite a colorful career, except for a long space of time.  Makes me wonder where those records got off to.  Your buddy in the Academy was a nut.  He set up the murder of his sister, whom you were fucking at the time.  He set up the murder of a senator, whom Remy was fucking at the time.  And then the two of you meet.  You had a pretty good thing there for a bit and then it got bad.  The CIA got involved somehow.  Jeez, your girlfriend, this Jonella Paxton…she was sent to take out Remy, but somehow, you fixed it for her.  Now about a year and a half later, she's almost married to you and sort of a mother figure to Remy's daughter.  Very nice engagement ring, by the way.  I'll bet you shelled out a couple three thousand for that, didn't you?  Amazing."

Donovan hated her even more at that moment.  He could have easily reached across the desk and knocked her out of the chair.  How had she gained access to those files?  It nearly took an act of Congress to simply be in the same room with them.  He knew what her angle was and he didn't like it.  _She was sent to take out Remy, but somehow, you fixed it for her_.  It wasn't as easy as that.  It wasn't as if Remy was terrified.  She had visited Pax in the hospital for God's sake.  She hated Pax, but she didn't fear her.  Although he didn't want to give her the satisfaction, he couldn't prevent the words from erupting.  "What you read obviously didn't shed any light on the fact that Jonella Paxton took bullets meant for Remy.  She nearly died because of it.  I didn't _fix _anything.  What I did was repay a tremendous debt to someone who deserved to live.  Why would a paper trail exist at all if I were trying to hide something?  I don't like what you're implying, Detective Norwood.  I don't like it at all."

She ran her hand through her hair.  "Can I tell you what I don't like?  I don't like having murders in my part of town.  I don't like seeing horrid crime scenes like the one I saw in Darryl Hilton's home.  Speaking of which…"  She stood up and dug around behind her.  She had pulled out a manila envelope and then took her seat again.  Silently, she dug out the photos and slapped them onto his desk.  "I think you should have a looksie at those, Agent Donovan."  She watched as he picked up the photos.  It was the first time she had seen any emotion whatsoever.  He winced as if someone had pinched a nerve.  "So you're not blank all the time then, are you?"  She reached across the desk and snatched them back.  After stowing them away, she again focused her eyes on his face.  "I'm sure what your girlfriend did was noble, but she should have gone down for that.  I find it interesting that you and your wife were divorced a little less than six months before you had a replacement in line.  A replacement that was sent to kill the very woman you divorced."  Blank face had come back.  Oh well.  She didn't mind.  "I have a theory that I would like to share before the boys come to help me out.  I think that something was going on between you and Remy right before her death.  Perhaps she wanted sole custody of your daughter.  Who could blame her?  Her stepmother is a fucking assassin.  So, maybe you walk in on her while she's bathing.  She's fairly good looking, takes care of herself, and she truly stirred you up more than once.  Maybe you walked in there and some of the old feelings came back.  The new girlfriend isn't quite as hotty totty as the ex-wife, but you're not married, right?  You're free to do whatever you want.  Maybe for old time's sake, you wanted to fuck her, but she's no longer interested.  She has Hilton and you have the assassin.  Rejection doesn't sit well with you, so you fly into a rage and make sure that she can never deny you again.  Hubby walks in, witnesses what you've done, so you take your shiny black Glock and blow his brains out.  Only a man who's seen what you've seen could have done something like this.  Hell, maybe the assassin helped you.  She tried before, didn't she?"

_Count to ten.  Take deep breaths.  _The rage was eating him alive.  He couldn't remember how long it had been since he had felt like this.  He had never heard such an incredible amount of bullshit in his entire life.  She thought she knew everything, but she didn't know anything.  He didn't know what gave her the right to be so pompous and self-righteous.  What did she think she would find?  When he could no longer hear his heart pounding at his temples, he thought he might be able to speak without roaring at her.  "You have your search warrant.  You have spouted your ridiculous theories.  You obviously don't have enough to make an arrest.  I would appreciate it if you would go downstairs and wait for your colleagues there.  I would like to have a moment of privacy before you invade it further.  Is that all right with you, Detective Norwood?"

*  *  *

As soon as Stasia and Donovan were gone, Pax faced two choices.  She could either follow routine and go back to bed or she could pack and get the fuck out of there once and for all.  She _had _said her goodbyes last night and made her intentions clear, but she had also told Donovan that there was no way she could leave him.  God.  What the hell was she going to?  She flopped face first onto the bed.  She was going to go back to sleep.  She would follow routine and do what she had been doing since she moved in with Donovan.  It was simple.  She couldn't leave.  Not now.  Not ever.  It was time to stop fucking around.  Donovan loved her.  What other validation did she need?  He loved her.  It was simple.  If he came home tonight, she was going to tell him.  She was tired of this shit, tired of hiding her feelings.  Fuck it.  She wanted to marry him and tonight, he would know.  Realizing that her mind was finally made up, she drifted off to sleep.  It was at that point when Donovan was making his first eye contact with Detective Norwood.  She had no idea that the police were on their way to her and Donovan's loft.

_Ringing.  What was all this damn ringing?  It's driving me nuts.  If I had a hammer, I'd smash it._  It took Pax a good minute to realize that it was the phone ringing.  She opened one eye and gazed at it.  She had no idea who the fuck would be calling her.  Donovan was the only one, and he knew better than to call her at this hour.  Her arm snaked out and snagged the cordless phone.  Perhaps it was Ed McMahon telling her that she had won ten million dollars.  Wouldn't that be nice?  What would she do first?  Ah.  She'd buy the Chicago Police Department, Precinct 666 or whatever, and boot Sergeant Dumbass right out the door.  That would be nice.  Before she hit the 'talk' button, she cleared her throat.  Her morning frog wanted to choke her today.  "Yeah?"

"Jonella, it's Frank.  I don't have a lot of time to talk here, but I need to warn you.  The Chicago Police will be coming to you shortly with search warrants.  Don't argue with them.  Let them in and let them do their jobs."

"What the hell," she said.

"I'll explain later, Jonella.  Just don't fight them.  Don't give them any reason to slap handcuffs on you.  I'll tell you more later, I promise."

Before she could say another word, she could hear someone knocking on the door.  _And the troops have flown in_.

*  *  *

Before Donovan went home that evening, he arranged for a sitter.  There was no way he wanted to bring Stasia home.  He could only imagine what the police had done to the loft.  They had nearly torn apart the nest, Cody almost crying when they touched his precious computers.  It had taken the rest of the day to get everything back into some kind of order.  None of them had the patience or tolerance to work, not after that.  The team had been full of questions, but Donovan couldn't talk about it.  He was afraid he'd start yelling.  He had so much rage built inside.  The only place he would let it out would be at home.  He wouldn't do it here.  It was the very reason he didn't want Stasia home.  She didn't need to see her father losing it.  As soon as he stepped inside the living room, it wasn't as bad as he expected.  Then again, it appeared that Pax had been busy as well.  She had gathered all her hair into a clip and donned a tank top and sweats.  She normally slept in such outfits, but today, she was using it to straighten the mess.  He wondered how long she had been at it.  Hours?  All day?  When Pax noticed Donovan, she immediately stopped what she was doing and turned to face him.  She didn't say anything.  Instead, she waited for him to give her the explanation he promised.  He didn't know how he could proceed without hurting her.  He grew even angrier at the prospect.  He approached her and took her hand.  They sat together on the couch and Pax turned to face him.  She wanted to see every expression, every nuance.

"The esteemed Detective Norwood came by with her search warrants.  You know that, of course.  She made it no secret that she thinks I had something to do with it.  She said she believes that I broke in on Remy, attacked her, and then killed her husband because she wouldn't sleep with me.  She spoke nothing but utter filth, Jonella.  Trash."  His jaw clenched for the slightest moment.  This would be the hardest part of it all.  "Somehow, she obtained copies of our files.  She knows just about everything about us, including the mission that brought you back to Chicago."  She immediately tensed and looked away.  "Jonella, it means nothing.  None of it does.  She dug around, found our skeletons, and hung them before our faces.  It doesn't matter.  It's why I called ahead, because I didn't want you to be faced with any surprises."  He placed his fingers on her cheek and turned her face back toward his.  "What about you?  What did they do here?  Did they talk to you?  Question you?"

She shook her head.  "No.  They said about two words to me.  They seemed more interested in our bathroom than anything else.  They took hair from combs and brushes."

His brow furrowed.  "Hair?  From us both?"  She nodded.  He clenched his teeth and fist at the same time.  He was livid and fuming.  "This is ridiculous.  There probably _is _hair from us both at that house.  It transfers very easily from person to person.  I don't know what the hell kind of game they're playing.  Goddamn them."

_So much for what I needed to tell you tonight.  _There was no way she could say anything now.  He was completely too angry.  Then again, maybe it was for the best.  She could just imagine how bad their relationship looked on paper.  The woman who had been sent out to assassinate Frank Donovan's ex-wife was now engaged to marry him.  None of it made sense.  "How many times did the word assassin come up?"

He shook his head.  "It's not important, Jonella.  She doesn't know anything.  She _read _things, but didn't _dig _into them.  She's on a vigilante kick and that's it.  Your past is your past.  You're not the same person you were when you first came back."

"I so want to kick her fucking ass," she said through clenched teeth.  "I wish I had gotten hold of her yesterday.  Cop or not, doing time would be worth it.  She can spit on me all she wants.  I'm not pristine and I don't care to admit it.  I've fucked up, I've done things I wish I could take back a thousand times over, but she's messing with you.  What have you done?  You've done nothing.  All you've done is taken up with me and since you have, look at everything that has happened to you.  So my black marks have become yours."

"Jonella, _it doesn't matter_," he repeated emphatically.  He was hiding it from her and hiding it well, but the shit Norwood said had cut him.  It had cut him as deeply as if she had been saying it about _him_.  Hell, she might as well have said it about him.  Whatever touched Pax touched him and it was the same way with her, regardless of her harsh words or gruff exterior.  If she didn't feel that way, she wouldn't try to scratch people's eyes out.  "It's not important," he repeated.  He wished he could find something else to say.  He felt quite ineffectual.  

"Sure it's not," she said vaguely.  "It was so unimportant that she felt the need to dig it up and shove it into your face."  Donovan wanted to say something else, but she shook her head.  "No.  I don't want to talk about this anymore.  Where's Blondie?  What did you do with the kid?"

He bit into his lower lip and chewed on it for a few seconds.  She wanted to change the subject, but he had no intention of letting it drop.  Yet, he didn't want to push her either.  Both of them were quite pissy at the moment and it was best that they waited until they weren't so angry.  Fighting with Pax wasn't easy.  It always became physical.  Sighing, he said, "I took her to a sitter.  I didn't want her to see us like this.  I'll bring her home later."

She nodded and then without ceremony, she brought herself to her feet and took off upstairs.  Moments later, he heard the shower running.  He wanted to follow her, but he also wanted to stay down here and brood until his anger passed.  There was still a chance for a full swing fight to occur at any moment.  He didn't want that to happen.  It had been several months since they had really had a true fight.  There were arguments and bitch fights, but nothing like the ones they had when she came back to Chicago.  Not knowing what to expect from this, he stood and made his way upstairs.

Pax sighed heavily the moment she realized that Donovan intended to join her in the shower.  It wasn't that she didn't want him in with her, she _did_, but what she had wanted to say to him was all fucked up now.  It was fucked up and she didn't know if she would get her nerve back or not.  She sure as shit couldn't do it tonight thanks to that bitch with the attitude from hell.  _Gee, Pax.  She sounds like you, doesn't she?  You've seen this game played before, right?  You've played it.  She's playing **your **game.  She can do what you can't.  She doesn't have such a…checkered past.  Back off.  Back off and leave like you started.  Marrying him is a huge laugh.  _One arm went around her waist as the other came across her chest.  A few moments later, she felt his lips at the side of her throat.  As she felt his hand move below her waist to her lower abdomen and then lower still, she literally prayed for the strength to push him away.  It was no use.  The fucker knew what he was doing, knew what she was feeling.  Why else would he come into the shower with her?  God it was no use.  She couldn't do anything.  She was his goddamn slave.  He knew this.  He knew it and used it to his advantage every fucking chance he got.  Just before he entered her, he whispered to her emphatically:  _I love **you**.  Do you understand me?  I…love…you.  _Poor bastard.

**____________________**

**To be continued…**    


	9. Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

HAIR TODAY, GONE TOMORROW

The next morning, Pax rose up out of bed the instant the door snicked shut behind Donovan's ass.  He had thought she was asleep as usual, but she wasn't, not this time.  They had a spare bedroom and she kept a few things stored in there.  One of them was, of course, her suitcase.  She dragged it into the bedroom and spread it out onto the bed.  She couldn't believe the amount of shit she had accumulated since she moved in with him.  She sure as shit couldn't take everything with her.  She had always traveled light, and today would be no exception.  Thing was, she just didn't know where she wanted to go.  It didn't matter.  By the time Donovan came home, she would be long gone.  Perhaps this time, he would be angry enough not to give enough of a fuck to chase after her.  The suitcase was stuffed now, probably overflowing.  If she didn't stop, she'd never get the damn thing snapped closed.  Pax reached up to slap the lid down and that's when the bedroom light reflected nicely off the diamonds in the engagement ring.  Fuck it and fuck it some more.  She had had her cap set to leave.  It was time to go, but she _couldn't fucking leave_.  Cursing nonsensically, she shoved the suitcase off the bed.  She didn't give a tin shit if every piece of clothing she had was dirtied in the process.  Nothing mattered.  Nothing at all.  After a long moment of feeling sorry for herself, she picked up the suitcase and unpacked.  When that task was accomplished, she decided to take a long walk.  She might not be able to leave his ass permanently, but she could at least get the fuck out of this loft and get some air.  If she didn't, she thought she might lose her mind.

Pax wasn't aware that one Detective Alayna Norwood and her junior partner were observing every move she made.  Since discovering Paxton's colorful past, Alayna had become quite interested in the woman.  While she had distracted Donovan on his turf, she had sent a few of her esteemed colleagues to collect a strand or three of hair.  There had been a few stray hairs, jet-black, in the Hilton bathroom.  No one around the immediate family had black hair.  No one but Frank Donovan.  And then there was the girlfriend.  She was an ash blonde.  Alayna wasn't sure if it was natural or a dye job, but they hadn't found anything like that lingering around.  Yet, if Paxton had done the dirty work for Donovan while he looked on, perhaps she had taken care to ensure that her hair wasn't around.  She wasn't stupid.  Donovan's hair didn't truly belong there, well not in the bathroom anyway, but there were just too many avenues to ignore right now.  What evidence that was collected had been sent to the lab.  They wouldn't have any results for a few more days.  However, right at this moment, Alayna's attention was focused on Paxton.  She didn't understand the attraction, didn't get the relationship.  What was it?  What had brought this all about?  From what she'd read, Paxton was a mess from day one.  If Donovan had fixed one situation for her, he was bound to have fixed a dozen others.  He could get a lot of shit covered up, even some of his own.  She longed to nail Paxton right now.  She wanted to throw her in an interrogation room and plant her foot in the woman's stomach.  _I'd show you.  _Alayna had done something quite naughty and made photocopies of some of Paxton's records.  She was drawn only to the juicier ones.  This particular bit of information made her theory even more true to life.  Paxton had had a child, a boy.  He had died in an accident when he was about two, the same age as Stasia Donovan when Paxton made her appearance.  It was complex and jumbled up.  There were so damn many pieces of the puzzle.  _Now tell me, you skinny bitch, just where do you think you're going?_

*  *  *

Donovan was listening as Monica and Cody gave him the lowdown on Draper.  He had his finger in almost every shady business in town.  On top of it all, he wasn't a very nice guy.  He had been implicated in several gangland style murders.  He chose to do things like the old time gangsters did.  Some of the crime scene photos Cody had on his system were disturbing.  Donovan couldn't immediately put his finger on it, but it seemed as if he had seen something similar to this.  In an instantaneous flash, he had it.  Remy and Darryl.  What interest would Draper have in them?  He could understand if Donovan had had dealings with the man before, but he hadn't ever seen him.  Although he hated to admit it, he needed Norwood's crime scene photos.  She would never let him have them, of course, because she thought her suspect was already in the palm of her hand.  He was about to ask Cody to dig up some info about the murders, but the phone caught him off guard.  Monica grabbed it before he had the chance.  

"Boss, it's for you.  Wade Denizen."  

For a moment, he was a bit confused.  He hadn't heard the name 'Wade Denizen' in years.  He only knew the agent in passing and no clear idea why he would contact him now.  He nodded toward Monica.  "Thanks.  I'll take it upstairs."  He tromped up to his office and took hold of the phone.  "Donovan."

"Been a while, Frank, hasn't it," Denizen said.  "I've been meaning to call you for a couple of days, but we've had our hands full here lately.  I'm sure you know what I mean," he said with a slight laugh.  He didn't give Donovan a chance to speak.  He plunged ahead.  "I want you to understand that what I'm about to tell you is strictly off the record.  In other words, you didn't hear it from me.  I've heard you're taking some heat from the Chicago police regarding a murder.  Your ex-wife was married to a fairly shady guy.  On the day he was murdered, we had raided his office, and would have taken him into custody if the killer hadn't intervened.  He had dealings with a man named Draper.  He basically told us everything we wanted to know about him and his business dealings.  I wouldn't be afraid to say that Draper is the man the CPD is looking for."

Donovan closed his eyes tightly and clenched the phone in his fist.  If he didn't loosen his grip, he would destroy it.  He clearly remembered the day he met Hilton the first time.  Remy was at his place with Stasia and she had asked him to meet her there.  Hilton was quite vague about what he did for a living, but Donovan was overwhelmed by the splendor in which he had surrounded himself.  Residences such as this were reserved for corporate raiders and the like.  Hilton didn't strike him as being someone in that league.  He didn't trust the other man.  Donovan wanted to brush it off as being over protective of his daughter, but it was something else.  It was a hunch right then and there.  He had known Hilton wasn't straight that first day.  _You can't run a background check on every man your ex-wife dates_, Pax had commented.  No.  He couldn't, but he should have.  "I appreciate the information," Donovan said when he could vocalize again.  There was so much more he wanted to say and ask, but he didn't think he had the ability at the moment.  It was a combination of shock, regret, and anger.  What he wouldn't give to have Norwood sitting in on this conversation so she'd back off.  He wasn't worried about himself, but he _was _concerned about Pax.  At any time now, he expected her to bolt.  Each time he saw her at the end of the day, it was another unexpected surprise.  "I'm sure this will be something I can use, but your name won't come up."  Without another word, he hung up.  

*  *  *

There was someone else watching Pax as she took her morning head clearing stroll.  Actually, Pat Draper had been watching both Donovan and his girlfriend since before the funeral.  He knew the guy was related to the FBI in some way and also knew that he was married to Remy Hilton at one time.  He often wondered if Donovan was one of the federal guys that Hilton had sung to before he met his untimely demise?  God, it was messy, messy.  He hated messes.  He actually didn't want to take out any more people, but he would do whatever it took to keep his nose clean.  It was just his stupid dumb luck to find Hilton's wife at home.  He didn't intend to find anyone but the hired help waiting in the wings.  Why hadn't she gone shopping or some shit like most of the wives in their circles?  She had had to mouth off at him.  If she had kept her mouth shut, he might have let her go, but she didn't.  He was nice enough to her, but she didn't like him, and didn't mind letting him know it at every turn.  Her death was messy, messy, but also necessary.  And now, he had to deal with Donovan.  Donovan bothered him a little.  He didn't know much about the guy and couldn't get much information.  All he did know was that he had an uptown loft, a girlfriend, and a little girl.  He wouldn't bother the little girl.  He would focus his energies on the girlfriend.  Perhaps if something small happened to her, it would send a nice message to him to back off.  Today, the leggy woman was walking briskly along the sidewalk.  What if he were to wait until she went into the crosswalk and then he could just about nick her with his car.  If she didn't do that, perhaps he could park his car and rough her up a little.  He wanted to send just a little message.  If that didn't work, he could perform the same type of operation he had on Hilton's wife.  After the drugs kicked in, she hadn't felt an ounce of pain.  He wasn't an altogether bad guy, now was he?  He gave the car some gas, but was cut off by a black four-door sedan.  He cursed.  He nearly made good on his project until he recognized the woman behind the wheel.  She was a fucking cop.  Goddamn it.  He couldn't move in front of a cop.  They were following the girlfriend as well.  This was an interesting development.  What was this?  Was she under protection?  If that was the case, then Donovan _definitely _knew about him.  He would have to watch the girlfriend, get her alone, and give the fed a clear message.  He thought he could get away with a hint, but that wasn't good enough anymore.

*  *  *

Pax had walked until she thought she might vomit.  Her legs were aching and her ankles shaking.  How far out had she gone?  It didn't matter.  It felt good.  It had worked out a lot of shit.  Twice she had tried to leave and twice she had failed.  It just wasn't going to happen.  She had to face facts and get on with her life.  _Get on with your life.  Get on with it **with **Donovan.  _Maybe she _was _supposed to spend the rest of her life with him.  Maybe that was it after all.  Sometimes, it did take a Mack truck smacking her in the face before she saw the real deal.  She caressed the ache out of her legs and spied a vendor across the street.  She hoped they had water.  She would sell her soul for a single cup right now.  She was getting much too old for this shit.  

"You do walk fast," a voice said from beside her.

Pax looked to her immediate right.  She had no idea that someone had taken the empty space beside her.  Of course, the 'someone' wasn't a person she wanted to see.  Detective fucking Norwood.  She took deep breaths [_Goddamn you, Donovan.  You're rubbing off on me_] to contain the rage bubbling beneath the surface.  If she didn't blow up, she would treat herself to some _real _coffee and maybe a cigarette.  _Naw…the coffee, maybe.  The cigarette can go to hell.  Don't want to get that shit started again.  _She noticed that the ugly bitch was smirking at her, her green eyes glittering as if she were a happy child on Christmas Eve.  Pax rested her hands against the bench, actually clenching the edges.  She didn't want her hands free, because she knew the cop was going to say something stupid.  "I have long legs," she commented nonchalantly.  "I suppose you've been following along behind me all morning?  Don't you have anything better to do?  Like solving crimes?  Like finding the true perps instead of pointing the finger at innocent men?  Jesus, lady, I've been out of the game for a while, but I thought you were here to protect and serve, not follow and stalk."  Pax thought she saw the other woman's eye twitch.  

_I don't like you.  I really, really don't like you_, Alayna thought.  Of course, her partner was hanging close by in case Paxton decided to get grabby.  "So say you," Alayna told her.  "I'll bet there wasn't any love lost between you and Remy, right?  How did she feel about you elbowing your way in like you did?  How did she feel about your role in her daughter's life?  I'm sure she knew what you did for a living, didn't she?  So what are you going to tell the little girl when she's old enough to ask questions?  Children are curious.  She'll want to know.  Stepmommy was an assassin for the CIA.  What a thing for show and tell.  I'm sure she'll be the hit of her class.  Does your lover know about your track record with children?  Does he know you let your kid get run down on the road like a chipmunk?"  

A red haze suddenly enveloped her.  It was all she could see and feel.  The bitch could talk all the shit she wanted about her former line of work, her past, etc.  But no one…_no one_ would talk shit about her son or the way he died.  This was low, so very low.  Pax had done a lot of shit in her life that she regretted every day, but even she didn't think she deserved such a cut.  "For your information," she began through gritted teeth.  "He knows everything about my son.  For your information, his father murdered him.  For your information, if you don't get out of my fucking face in twenty seconds, you _will _have to put me in cuffs.  If you don't move, I swear to God, I'll fucking beat you down.  If you want to cuff me now, I suggest you call your partner over, because you won't do it by yourself."  Pax focused her eyes on the detective.  The sapphire color of them had actually darkened.  "Your time is almost up, Detective Norwood," she said, her voice almost a whisper.  "Make your move."

This monster sitting beside her meant every damn word she said.  Again, she was tempted to take Paxton up on her offer.  It wouldn't take long to subdue her with some help.  But she wanted to wait for the lab.  If the DNA matched Donovan, she might have enough to make an arrest.  "I'll tell you like I told your lover, I'll be in touch, Agent Paxton."

When the cop from hell left her alone, Pax buried her face into her hands.  _Jesus, I can't believe she mentioned my son.  I can't believe she stooped so low.  I can't believe she thought **I **killed him.  _What the hell was she thinking?  If the cop knew so damn much about her records, then she _had _to know about Lee.  _Goddamn the bitch.  Goddamn her.  _It had been quite some time since she had actually taken anyone out, but she was so fucking close.  All it would have taken was one simple smack up against the bridge of her nose, and Alayna Norwood would be no more.  She would be dead before she even realized it.  She had no idea where she found the strength to fight away the impulse.  She had actually visualized herself doing it, could almost _feel _the sensation of her hand smashing up against her nose.  _What am I doing?  What am I thinking?_  It took a very long time for her to collect herself.  Once she felt halfway normal, she stood and made her way back toward home.  If it weren't for encountering the members of his team, she might search out Donovan.  She wanted to see him, _needed _to see him.  Yet, it wouldn't be such a hot idea right now.  Home.  She needed to go home.  If she could just get home, she would be okay.  Donovan would eventually come to _her_.  She had never needed someone so much.

*  *  *

Donovan was in his office trying to make sense of everything he had learned today.  He couldn't believe how much had changed within such a short amount of time.  Jake and Alex would infiltrate the office where Hilton had worked to see if they could find any information about how he had gotten connected with Draper.  The phone rang beside him and he had been working on automatic for so long, that he reached out and grabbed it without thinking.  "Donovan."

"Frank?"

It was a voice he recognized immediately.  It was his ex-father in-law, Joe Ellis.  He wasn't certain what the man would want from him at this stage outside a visit with his granddaughter.  Not that long ago, he had been sitting across from him, throwing daggers with his eyes.  He actually didn't have time to deal with family issues right now.  Donovan hated doing it, but he would have to put him off for a while.  "Mr. Ellis," he began.  He didn't feel comfortable calling him 'Joe' anymore.  "I'm sorry, but this isn't a good time."

"No, it isn't," he said, his voice hollow.  "I've been speaking to Alayna and she has told us what she thinks.  I think it best that we take Anastasia.  We'll do whatever it takes.  I just want you to understand that."

Donovan clenched his teeth and gripped the phone.  God.  This phone had taken some abuse over the years.  "Your cousin is insane.  There is nothing to what she says.  I'll burn in hell before I'll let _anyone _take my daughter away from me.  I have no issue with you seeing her or spending time with her, but she's _mine_.  If it's a battle you want, it's a battle you shall have."

"Frank, I'm sorry.  I just think this is the best way."

"You do what you want."  He hung up.  

What the hell was going on with the world?  Was he living in a third dimension?  His former in-laws wanted to take his daughter away from him?  What the hell did they think they were doing?  Jesus Christ.  Not only had the cop pointed her finger at him, she had basically convinced Remy's parents that they needed to take his daughter.  He meant every word he said.  He would see them in hell first.  No one would take his child.  _No one_.  He wasn't certain he could concentrate now.  From here on out, he would be looking over his shoulder, wondering when someone would fly in and grab Stasia right out from under his nose.  The Ellis' had never had a problem with him before.  They knew what he did.  They knew what kind of life he led.  For fuck's sake, they knew _him_.  He was married to their fucking daughter for two years.  Lived with her a year before that.  How could they believe he would harm Stasia's mother?  At times, Remy could get all over his nerves, but he would have never harmed a hair on her head.  Even as angry as he was during the divorce proceedings, he never laid a finger on her.  Jesus.  He was tempted to call Pax.  He truly needed to hear her voice right now, but it wasn't the right time.  Later.  It would have to wait until later.

**____________________**

**To be continued…**      


	10. A Few Surprises

A FEW SURPRISES

Pax had stopped off to pick up the kid for Donovan.  She did that from time to time.  As the two of them began to stroll along, Stasia babbled excitedly, stopping every few inches to examine something.  She had drawn another picture.  This one was exclusively for her Donnie.  Three-year-olds weren't the best artists in the whole world, but damn if that picture didn't choke her up a little.  She supposed she _did _love the little blonde shit.  God.  How many times in so many months had she thought that?  She and the kid entered the loft.  At that moment, Pax wanted to take a shower so bad she would have paid for it.  She gave the kid a snack and listened to her talk excitedly about her day.  After she wore herself out, Pax carried her upstairs and laid her down in her bed.  Stasia could sack out for a little while and give her a chance to shower.  As she was stripping down, she realized that she hadn't put the suitcase away.  It didn't matter.  She would do that later.  Right now, she needed something else.  After her shower, she came out to await Donovan.  The hours of six, seven, and then eight passed with no sign of him.  By the time nine rolled around, she had given up on him.  Something must have gone terribly wrong at the nest today.  Stasia was fed and bathed.  Her eyes were glazed over.  She had only napped about thirty minutes before she was up and at it again.  It was time for the kid to go to bed.  Hell, while she was at it, she'd go to bed herself.  He couldn't put his whole life on hold to listen to her pathetic whining.  It didn't dawn on her to put away the suitcase.  She didn't care.

Donovan entered the darkened interior of the loft no later than ten, but it had felt like a lifetime.  He longed for a drink, but he was too damn tired to pour it and drink it down.  He glanced upward toward the bedrooms and noticed that all the lights were out.  Pax?  In bed?  At this hour?  He climbed upstairs and went into Stasia's room first.  Of course, she would be in bed.  She was a deep sleeper, nothing like either of her parents.  He ran his hand over her head, smoothing back her soft blonde hair.  His mind again drifted to the phone conversation with Joe Ellis.  _No one is taking my daughter away from me.  No one.  _He lingered only a moment longer before slipping into his own bedroom.  He was met with two surprises at once.  The first, of course, was the fact that Pax _was _in bed asleep.  The other was a gaped open suitcase sitting in the middle of the floor.  For a moment, he was angrier than he had been the entire day.  She was going to leave.  It was as simple as that.  He had recognized the symptoms and sure enough, it was happening before his very eyes.  He shook his head and went over to his side of the bed.  If he didn't sit down, he was bound to fall down.  His entire way of life was falling apart.  His former in-laws wanted to steal his child and the woman he loved wanted to run away and hide.  Goddamn it.  He didn't understand.  He had never been so confused in his life.  He glanced over at Pax.  She was in her usual sleep position and seemed quite comfortable.  It was obvious she had been here for a while.  Had she intended to take a brief nap and then take off?  What had she intended to do with his daughter?  He refused to believe that she would leave Stasia alone.  At first, he nearly left it alone.  He would take a shower, change clothes, take his daughter, and leave her be.  However, he couldn't.  He loved her for God's sake.  He brought himself to his feet and flicked on the light.

Pax groaned and threw her arms over her face.  She didn't immediately open her eyes.  Instead, she moaned and groaned, cursing him under her breath.  Her sleeping brain had forgotten how desperately she needed him earlier today.  After some time, she finally removed her arms and sat up in the middle of the bed.  She first settled her eyes on Donovan, and then they fell on the suitcase.  _Fucking shit.  I forgot to put the fucking thing away before he got home.  _When she looked at him again, she noticed that there was very little anger in his eyes, but she could see that he was tired.  It was all over him.  If she explained it, would he believe her?  "I know it looks bad," she began.  He didn't move or flinch.  "I've been wanting to leave for a couple of days now.  You're in a lot of trouble because of my mouth and me.  I thought you might be better off without me.  I actually had that suitcase packed high.  I couldn't go.  I just…couldn't."

He had never heard her speaking in such a way the entire time he'd known her.  This was new and different.  She wasn't blustery or gruff.  She wasn't trying to hide her true feelings with crude humor.  She was talking straight and he honestly didn't know how to react.  He couldn't lie and say he wasn't pissed.  The moment he saw the suitcase, he nearly went into another flying rage.  One was enough for today.  Donovan moved a little closer to the bed and he noticed that her eyes followed him about the room.  Did he want to sit on the bed with her?  Did he want to be within strangling reach in case she _was _bullshitting him?  He went to the bed and sat before her.  He noticed that she wouldn't reach out to him.  Instead, she kept her hands in her lap as if she were a little girl.  "You couldn't go," he asked.  "And why was that?  Lack of transportation?  You missed the bus?  What?  I don't understand."

No one but Frank Donovan could cut her like this, making her feel as if her heart was about to explode.  No one had ever meant as much to her as he did, not for many, many years.  There was anger and fatigue about him, but something else was about him as well.  Hurt.  It radiated off his body like his fine smelling cologne.  It seemed to be a deeper kind of hurt than her splayed open suitcase.  However, right now, she wasn't certain that he would tell her.  "Okay, Donovan, I deserved that shot," she told him.  "I truly did.  I couldn't go because of you, damn it.  I saw your face, heard you say you loved me, and then just when I had that fucking suitcase locked, I saw your goddamn engagement ring.  I couldn't go.  Not after I thought about all that.  You know, Frank.  You know everything about me.  You know how easy it was for me to walk away.  I've done it a million times.  I thought it would be easy this time, but I was wrong.  This time, I love you too much.  I'm not going anywhere, I just forgot to put up the stupid thing."

He sighed and leaned forward.  He placed a very soft kiss to her forehead and then pulled away.  "I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have said that.  It's been a really shitty day.  I'm glad you told me, Jonella.  I don't think I could take any more surprises today."  She opened her mouth to respond, but he drew away and stood up.  How funny was this?  Pax was being the forthcoming one tonight and he was tightlipped.  Had their brains been transferred?  All day long, he had wanted to see her, speak to her, but now that he had his opportunity, the words dried up in his throat.  He paced about the room a time or two before stopping.  He sat before her again.  "There were a few things.  The first is that the new case we have is related to the murders of Remy and her husband.  It appears Darryl Hilton wasn't so pristine.  As startling as that is, as horrible as that sounds, it's not the worst.  Our friend, Detective Norwood, shared her theories with my former in-laws.  And now, they want to take my daughter away because they think I'm a murderer."

It was her turn to reach out.  She took hold of his hands and held them in hers.  "I'm sorry.  Maybe when the DNA comes back, the bitch will back off," she said hopefully.  "Right after I unpacked, I took a walk, and the bitch was following me.  She started talking shit about me and she brought up Lee's death.  She made it sound as if I let him play in traffic or something.  She's hitting our soft areas, Frank.  She's hitting them hard.  I don't think she gives one tin shit about finding the killer.  She's got some kind of grudge or something."  She released one of his hands and touched his cheek.  "Are you okay?  I mean, that was a true bonehead question, because I can see that you're not.  Other than beating the piss out of that cop, is there anything I can do?"

"You're doing it right now," he said.  Donovan leaned forward again and placed another kiss on her forehead.  "Go back to sleep.  I'll join you in a bit."

She took hold of his wrist.  "No, Frank.  Wait a minute."  His body relaxed and he focused his eyes on her face.  God.  How many times had she been rehearsing this?  How many times had she imagined saying this to him?  The words were choked back again, but she wouldn't hold them in.  She had the opportunity to leave him today, but she didn't.  It was time to say something.  "There is something I need to tell you."  He waited patiently, a curious glimmer in his eyes.  _Come on you stupid bitch.  Speak.  _"What would you say if I told you I loved you back then, too?  What would you say if I told you I was ready to get married?  Would you believe it?"  The silence a moment after her words were out was deafening.  She wondered vaguely if she had spoken aloud at all.  Donovan was looking at her as if he had lost his mind.  "Frank?"

"You said that to me in bed," he told her as if she hadn't said the words.  "I heard you.  I heard every word.  And then you played it the next morning as if I were dreaming.  Why did you do that?  Why could you not tell me that it _wasn't _a dream?"  He shook his head.  "Don't answer that, I know why you didn't.  You've been fighting this for weeks, haven't you?  That's what all this brooding has been about, hasn't it?  You know how I've felt about it all along, but you didn't want to admit that you wanted it, too.  Do you want it, Jonella?  Do you want it now?"

She nodded.  "I do," she said, her voice breaking just slightly.  "If you still want it, if I haven't turned you off, I want it."

He shook his head.  "I'm not turned off at all.  I've wanted to marry you since the day I half assed mentioned it to you in the van.  I know you remember that.  I'm glad you had that revelation.  I thought I was going to have to drug you to get you to marry me."

She smiled a little and leaned forward.  Her lips met his for a gentle kiss, but the moment she tasted him, it was all over for her.  The hellish day had suddenly settled its full weight on her shoulders and she wanted nothing more than to make love to Donovan and fall asleep within his arms.  After a long moment, he broke the kiss and stood.  She watched as he stripped out of his clothing.  It didn't take long for her to follow suit.  She had wanted to strip him down, but perhaps he knew she would only tease and prolong the agony.  All she had on was her shorts and tee shirt.  It took approximately five seconds for her to strip.  He came down to the bed beside her and kissed her again.  She pressed her body against his, thrusting her hands into his short hair, and then allowed them to travel down onto his neck.  When the kiss was broken, his lips found her throat.  She sighed aloud when she felt him placing nibbling bites upon her flesh.  He was trying to prod her down to her back, but she didn't want to go the passive route.  However, it didn't matter.  The moment his hand touched her shoulder, her back hit the mattress easily, willingly.  His lips encircled one of her hardened nipples and then moved to the other before she could breathe.  There were many things he loved about her.  One of those was the coloring of her flesh.  Although she had never wanted to associate herself with _anything _delicate, her nipples were a delicate shade of pink.  The same could be said about her lips.  If he ever voiced that aloud, she would probably kill him.  He wanted to venture lower, but it could wait.  Right now, he wanted to kiss her again.

Her hands glided along his back, down the slope of his spine, and settled momentarily on his awesome ass.  What did he do to get those cheeks so rock hard?  Her hands came around and he gasped a bit against her lips when her hand encircled him.  There was barely enough room down there for a finger, much less her entire hand.  Yet, she managed.  She never had a problem doing that before.  Her delicate caress was driving him a little over the edge.  His lips moved away from hers as a low moan left him.  She knew how far she could push him with this.  Her hand moved away and he resumed his own exploration.  His lips encircled her nipples for the second time before moving between her breasts.  He placed gentle, moist kisses along her ribcage, and then moved lower to her abdomen.  When his wet tongue touched her inside, she thrust her hand into his hair again and took a good handful.  Oh.  If he made her come, she would probably pull a big old patch of hair right out of his head.  He stopped just as she felt a climax building.  He had learned her cues so well.  For a moment, she thought he might kiss her again, and she awaited it.  He enjoyed kissing her and she equally enjoyed receiving them.  Instead, he positioned himself over her.  She could feel him against her, so very hard and ready.  What was this?  She had barely laid one finger on him.  She wanted this to last all night.  She didn't want this to be over before it began.  And then it dawned on her.  _You're marrying him.  You have your entire life to spend making love to him.  You're not leaving him.  He's not leaving you.  If he wants to make love to you in haste, let him do it.  You have tomorrow, the next day, the day after that, and the day after that.  _He ran the back of his hand along her cheek.

"I never thought that when I came home, I would end up feeling like this," he told her.  "I love you."

Without another word, she felt him slide into her deeply.  She closed her eyes tightly and reveled in the sensation as he took his time.  He, apparently, didn't give a shit that they were getting married.  He moved within her slowly and her hands moved down to his buttocks.  Oh.  She didn't like this slow stuff.  She wanted him to go fast and furiously.  Tonight, it was what she wanted and needed, but he wasn't having that, of course.  She gasped aloud when he touched her where their bodies were joined.  She hated [not really] when he did this to her.  It was like a double whammy or something.  She couldn't stand it.  He knew this.  He knew it and used it to his advantage every chance he got.  He was an asshole, but he was _her _asshole.  She kissed him to try to divert his attention, but it didn't work.  She nibbled at his lips, trying to bite them, but he kept pulling away.  She eventually gave up.  She wasn't going to win, anyway.  For now, he had the upper hand.  His mouth covered hers to stifle a cry as she reached her first of many climaxes that night.  She was glad, too.  She might have awakened the kid.  Hell, she _would _have awakened her.  No doubt about it.  After her third [or was it her fourth] climax, he finally gave her a bit of control.  They switched positions without losing their connection for a second.  She began to move with him again.  He reached out to her, perhaps to cup her waist, but she took hold of his hand.  She ran her lips along his fingers and then held his hand between her breasts, beneath her heartbeat.  Right now, it was beating quite frantically.  He took in a sharp, hissing breath.  This was a cue of _his _that she had learned well.  He was ever so close to his own climax.  _Well, we're going to have to fix that, now aren't we?_  He moved the hand between her breasts and brought them both around to her buttocks.  He gripped them tightly as he began moving her harder against him.  Before long, he sank his teeth into his bottom lip, and all movement ceased.  He had closed his eyes tightly as his body froze.  With a groan, he rode wave after wave of intense euphoria.  His fingers had dug into the soft flesh of her buttocks, pinching almost, but she didn't notice.

After a very long moment, Donovan sat up with her still astride him.  He kissed her deeply.  When the kiss was broken, she buried her face in his shoulder.  "I love you," she said against his skin.  "I'm sorry I put you through so much hell."

"It was all worth it," he told her.  "Every last bit of it."

"Even when I called you Spankie," she asked with a giggle.

He laughed.  "Well, there are some exceptions.  What made you change your mind?"

She sighed.  She knew he was going to ask that question eventually.  She just didn't think he'd ask it so soon.  "I'm not sure.  Lots of things.  I wanted it after I realized that what we had wasn't just a novelty to you.  I wanted to make sure I wasn't a replacement for your ex.  In the beginning, that's kind of what I thought I thought I was.  Rebound relationships happen all the time.  I didn't realize how serious it was until I thought you got shot.  I saw you fall and I lost it."

He drew away to gaze at her.  "It was the same for me in that hotel room when you took those bullets.  You were never a novelty to me.  _Never_."

"Another thing, we could always fight and fuck.  But what about the other?  There are so many things that are…different about me."

"It's ancient history, Jonella.  Both of us fought for different reasons.  But it's over.  I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.  Fuck what anyone else says or thinks.  I don't care.  Do you?"

She smiled a little.  "Have I ever?"

He shook his head.  "Nope."  He kissed her again.  "I need a shower.  Care to join me?"

"You couldn't keep me knocked out."

*  *  *

Damn it.  Draper wasn't happy.  He had tried to come in to visit Donovan's girlfriend, but just as he was about to make his entrance, the bastard had to show up.  He couldn't stay with her all day and night.  There was still tomorrow.  He had to move fast before Donovan found him.  Draper was a man who liked to leave messages.  He wished he had had time to leave one for Hilton, but it hadn't worked that way.  If he hadn't been so angry with Hilton, he would have had plenty of chances for it.  And now, he was running out of time.  Damn it and damn it again.

**____________________**

**To be continued…**


	11. Attempts

ATTEMPTS

Although it was still relatively dark in the room, Pax had no trouble realizing it was morning.  However, she was completely exhausted.  She and Donovan had spent almost the entire night making love.  Surprisingly enough, she woke up first.  There was a tiny sliver of light creeping through the blinds and she longed to put it out for a few more hours.  She wasn't one for mush, exactly, but she truly didn't want the night to end.  Her slight movements awakened Donovan.  He said nothing.  Instead, he reached for her and she willingly gave in to his embrace.  He kissed her deeply, not immediately wanting to let her go.  He was intent on making love to her yet again, but Pax began to giggle against his lips.  Thinking that she might have lost her mind a little, he rose up and gazed down at her.  _What the hell?  _Pax said nothing.  She discreetly pointed down to the foot of the bed.  _We have company_.  He moved away, ensuring that her body was properly covered.  Neither of them had on a stitch of clothing.  As expected, Stasia was at the foot of the bed waiting for them to notice her.  As soon as Donovan was properly covered, she didn't hesitate to climb onto the bed between them.  Of course, it was a rare occasion for them to still be in bed together after dawn.  Usually Donovan was up and dressed way before now.  Stasia was probably confused as hell.  The little girl bestowed a bear hug on her father before turning her attention to Pax.  Instead of letting Pax go after her hug, she hung onto her.  After a few moments, Stasia fell asleep against Pax's body.

Donovan smiled a little and kissed Pax's temple.  "You two sleep.  I'll make breakfast."

Pax smiled a little when she saw that he had prepared omelets for them.  When she cut into hers with her fork, she realized it was the same type of omelet he'd made for her a few days ago.  She wondered vaguely if he had done this on purpose.  Frank Donovan was one sneaky little fuck, but she loved him.  No one else would do shit like that for her.  When he sat down across from her, she couldn't help but look at him.  _Uh.  I'm fucking making goo goo eyes at him.  What the fuck is wrong with me?  _She looked away to pick up a forkful of the omelet.  The first time he had made it for her, the thought of eating turned her stomach.  This morning, it tasted like heaven.  Sensing eyes on him, he looked up and noticed that she was gazing at him.  He gave her an amusing 'what' look.  Embarrassed [_…dear Lord Jesus, he caught me looking…_], she looked away and tore into her omelet again.  _I feel like a kid here.  What the fuck is happening to me?  _Before Donovan left with Stasia, he gave Pax a long, lingering kiss.  It was another of those weird moments that was hard to explain, but neither of them wanted to try.  He stayed with her as long as he dared.  The moment the door was closed behind them, Pax headed straight for the bed.  _Just because I've agreed to marry him doesn't mean I have to break my routine.  _Of course, Pax wasn't the only one watching Donovan and Stasia leaving for the day.  _God, finally_, Draper thought.  It was time to make his move.

*  *  *

Pax could hear very slight movements downstairs.  She was in the place between sleep and consciousness.  She was pretty damn sure she was dreaming.  However, she hoped she wasn't.  Perhaps Donovan decided to come back.  _No.  You're just dreaming, dumb ass.  _She didn't move from her spot.  Instead, she settled herself firmly onto the soft mattress.  She hugged her pillow even closer to her.  She was tempted to grab hold of Donovan's while she was at it.  It smelled like him.  Although she had bitched and bitched again about his cologne, it was what she loved most about him.  It was what she missed when he wasn't around.  Of course, she'd never admit that.  Not to his face anyway.  She slipped deeper into the land of sleep and the noises downstairs continued.  At the moment, it sounded as if someone was on the stairs.  Again, she attached no significance to it.  She simply lay still, smelling Donovan's smell, and smiling about the gentle way he had made love to her all night.  She needed a repeat performance tonight if he was up for it.  _Come on, we're talking about Frank Donovan.  Of course, he's up to it.  He's **always **up to it.  _She found it funny how the person walking around was trying to do so quietly so as not to be detected.  Almost immediately, she awoke and sat straight up, but her realization came just a moment too late.  Before she could take a breath, a man had thrown his body on top of hers.  She couldn't breathe because the fucker had his hands around her throat.  She didn't know who the fuck this man was, but he was ugly.  His hair was greasy and black, and his eyes were ice blue.  His pasty face was obscured in an animalistic snarl.  He intended to kill her.  It was as simple as that.  She didn't know this man, yet he wanted to murder her.  

Pax struggled beneath him and managed to lift her leg.  He apparently sensed what she wanted to do, because he settled his body more firmly atop hers.  However, she didn't let up.  If she did, she wouldn't see the light of day again.  If she could have looked in a mirror, she would have seen that her face was turning an alarming shade of red.  She couldn't breathe and the light in the room was growing dimmer by the second.  She didn't quite give up.  She continued lifting her leg, quickly raising its mate at the same time.  They were skinny, chicken legs, but goddamn it, there was a lot of strength within them.  Using her last bit of consciousness, she pushed with everything she had in her.  It loosened his grip enough for her to take a hitching breath of air.  Perhaps now, she would have a bit of a chance.  She lifted her hand, readying to smash the heel of it up against his nose.  _Let's see if the fuck likes to feel bone splintering in his brain.  _He moved just before she dealt the blow.  He rolled off the bed and took her with him.  Somehow, Pax managed to roll away from him.  She came up to her feet before the fucker even managed to get to his knees.  Without thinking, she spun and kicked out at him, her foot connecting with his jaw.  _I hope I broke it, you son-of-a-bitch.  _He fell back against the side of the bed, upsetting it, nearly pushing it off the frame.  Pax was in the process of giving the twisted fuck another kick when he reacted.  He took hold of her foot and pushed backward.  She felt the sinking sensation of falling and she hit the floor with an audible thud.  Before she could recoup, the bastard was on his feet, coming toward her.  She waited.  Let him come.  She would strike out again.  She watched as he dug out a gun.  _Fucker can't handle a fair fight, so what does he do?  He digs out a gun like a goddamn pussy.  _Amazingly fast on her feet [_…maybe I haven't lost my touch after all…_], she was standing again.  Her nose was bleeding, but she wasn't aware of it.  He trained his weapon right between her eyes.  Pax moved just as he pulled the trigger.  The sick fuck watched as she dove down.  She grabbed his ankle and yanked hard.  He screamed out an incoherent curse as he came down to the floor.  Pax began to scramble back up to her feet, but her attacker took hold of her leg.  In a move Donovan had made many, many months ago, he used her leg as an anchor.  Before long, he was on top of her, his rank breath fanning her face.  He brought his gun up again and she took hold of his wrist.  She could tell by the look on his ugly face that he didn't like how she fought back.  Oh no he did not.  She kept him from sticking the barrel of the gun into her abdomen, but wasn't so lucky with keeping it off her leg.  Before she could scream out an indignant curse, he pulled the trigger, and she felt the hot searing pain of a bullet ripping into her flesh.  Jesus Christ.  She hadn't been shot since she defended Donovan's princess.  Pax was certain he would finish her, but he didn't.  Instead, he stood up and holstered his gun.  

"Consider this a warning," he said.

Incredulously, Pax watched as he sauntered out of the room as if he were leaving a fancy party.  The man had fought without making hardly any noise.  It reminded her of her CIA days.  Was this one of the fucks who wanted to clean her?  She thought all that shit was in the past.  When she heard the door close downstairs, she glanced down at her leg to assess the damage.  She had no idea what shape her leg was in, but it hurt like fuck.  Oh God.  She was bleeding.  There was no way in hell she could stand, much less walk.  She cursed [_SHIT_] as she brought her body up into a half sitting position.  The wound bled even more.  _Goddamn.  What if the shithead hit an artery?  _She did the only thing she could think of.  She took off her tee shirt and ripped a long strip from it.  Maybe if she could set up some kind of rudimentary tourniquet, she could move just enough to get to the phone.  She was no more than two feet away from it, but it seemed like five miles.  After she tied a strip of her shirt around her leg, she gritted her teeth and turned to her side.  It sent a jolt of pain throughout her body.  Goddamn.  Carefully, painfully, she crawled toward the phone.  The crazy bastard who shot her had knocked it onto the floor when he upset the bed.  She was still bleeding, so she knew she had to move her ass.  When she finally reached the phone, she had to rest for a moment.  She had forgotten how damn much getting shot fucked with the body.  She rested for so long a time that her vision had begun to gray.  _Okay, Pax.  Don't get all pussy.  Wake up and dial the fucking phone.  If you don't call Donovan, you might not make it.  _She was being just slightly melodramatic, she knew, but what the hell?  What was life without drama?  She wanted to laugh, but it hurt too fucking much.  She dialed the number, feeling incredibly disconnected from her body, and listened to the ringing phone.  She hoped he was there.  When she heard his brusque greeting, she nearly started bawling like a baby.  _Good fucking God, what is happening to me?_

"Frank?  If you want me to walk down the aisle with you, I think you'd better come home."  Oh, she wanted to laugh, but the pain was horrendous.

If she could see him through the phone, she would have seen a confused look painted across his face.  "Jonella?  What's wrong?"  Her voice sounded strained, full of pain.  

"Somebody broke in on me.  I've been shot."

After those words left her mouth, he heard nothing else but dead air.  He wasn't aware that she had passed out.

*  *  *

"Jonella?  Baby?"

_Baby?  Who the hell is **baby**?  Surely he isn't talking to me?  I can't remember **ever **being **anyone's** baby.  _She wanted to open her eyes, but for a moment, she couldn't.  Her eyelids seemingly weighed a ton.  It had to be due to the surgery.  They had operated, hadn't they?  Well, maybe they didn't operate, actually, but the bullet had to be dug out.  Thank God she was knocked out for that.  However, she sure as shit didn't like the hangover.  And Donovan called her baby.  Hell.  What was wrong with the world today?  She actually didn't remember all that damn much.  She recalled calling Donovan, but after that, everything was a huge blur up until she heard Donovan's urgent whisper.  Baby indeed.  She would never let him live that down.  She finally won the struggle against the dope and she opened her eyes.  Donovan was seated almost up against the bed.  If her wound didn't hurt so goddamn much, she might have laughed.  This made her think of the other times he'd been with her in the hospital.  The first, of course, was when _he _had shot her.  She had loved the fucking fuck even then and had told him so.  _Baby infuckingdeed.  _She couldn't believe that she had done that.  _I was drunk.  That's it.  That will explain it all.  _The drugs were fucking with her mind.  She hated them, wouldn't have had anesthesia at all if the hospital hadn't insisted.  It took forever for her to get over it.

He opened his mouth to speak again, perhaps to utter 'baby' once more, but she didn't give him the chance.  "I'm okay," she croaked.  _Am I?  Am I **really**?  _"I've been shot before.  You should know that.  _You've_ shot me.  Hell, I took several bullets to the chest and shit.  I lived through that, even if it _did _hurt like fuck.  It's not the first time and won't be the last I'm sure.  And what's with this _baby_ shit?"

Donovan sighed heavily.  "Goddamn it, Jonella."  

Before she had the chance to move, he was kissing her and doing so breathlessly.  Apparently, he had forgotten that she was injured, but it didn't exactly bother her that much.  She was overwhelmed and overjoyed that she had made it out alive.  When she first felt his lips on hers, she was tempted to start pushing him away.  For Pete's sake, she was fine.  She had been shot in the fucking leg.  No big deal.  She came closer to dying from the hits to the chest than to the one in her leg.  However, she found herself responding like she never had before.  Her hands were in his hair and fuck if she wasn't trying to pull him over on top of her.  He broke the kiss before things became a bit pornographic.  The hospital just might frown upon such behavior.  Neither of them was quite inclined to actually give a ripe fuck, but Donovan had no desire to be arrested and/or kicked out of the hospital.  He still had to hunt down whoever had gotten stupid enough to fuck with her.

"What happened?  Who did this to you," Donovan began.  "Was it someone from the agency?"

She gazed up at him.  _Was it?  _She had been asking herself the same question since she felt the bullet zinging through her flesh.  "I don't know.  He definitely fought like a CIA man.  No noise.  I don't think he would have roughed me up like he did if I hadn't fought back.  I don't think he expected that.  He got pissed enough to try to make me eat a bullet, but he didn't.  Instead, he shot me in the leg.  He said something like 'consider this a warning.'"

Her words didn't sit well with him.  Without another word, he stood and went to the phone at her bedside.  She listened curiously as he made his call and asked Cody to call the hospital and then fax him a photo of Pat Draper.  With a confused look on her face, she watched as Donovan darted out of her hospital room.  What the fuck was going on?  Had he gone over the deep end or some shit?  After no more than five minutes, Donovan returned with a sheet of paper in his hand.  Before he took his seat again, he stared down at the paper for a long time.  He eventually sat down and passed the sheet of paper over to her.  

"Was this the man who attacked you?"

She took the paper and gazed down at the face.  The greasy black hair, the pasty face, and the beak-like nose were quite familiar.  Oh yes they were.  If the picture were in color, she would have seen his ice blue eyes.  "Yeah.  This is the fuck," she told him.  Instead of giving him the photo, she balled it up and tossed it into the wastebasket beside her bed.  "Don't tell me.  This must be the guy who knocked off your ex and her husband, right?  This is the fuck who did this shit, who left the evidence, and then allowed it to fall on your shoulders.  God Frank, if you love me, you'll tell me I'm fucking wrong."

Donovan sighed angrily, immediately realizing that Patrick Draper had one fuck of a death wish.  "I love you, Jonella, but there's no way in hell I can tell you you're wrong.  Apparently, the secret is out.  It doesn't help that we have a goddamn cop breathing down our necks.  I'm not sure if she is aware of the damage she has caused.  She probably led Draper right to you.  He's hurting you to get to me.  Just as he hurt Remy to get to Hilton."  Before he spoke again, he took a moment to gaze at Pax.  He had nearly lost her today and he couldn't fathom that idea.  "I don't think it's a good idea for you to stay here without protection.  If he came after you once, he'll do it again."

"Donovan, I can take care of myself," she told him stiffly.  "But I do think you should worry about the kid.  You might want to consider sending her to Florida to be with your folks.  She's the only defenseless one here."

"Stasia will definitely be safer with my parents, but I'm not leaving you without protection.  You cannot imagine the shit that was going through my head when I heard you were shot.  You just don't know.  I'll have one of the team stay with you until I get back from Miami.  There's no way in hell you can watch your own ass in this condition."

"One of your team," she said.  "Oh God, please no.  Who?  Not that Jake shit.  Please not him, Donovan.  Okay?  Anybody but him."

Donovan shook his head.  "Him exactly, Pax.  Don't start any shit about this, okay?  Someone needs to look out for you, and right now, it can't be me."

"Okay, fine," she said, sulking.  "But if he says one word out of line, I'll smack him.  I swear to God."

"I would hope that both of you can behave," he said.  "I won't be gone for any more than two days if I can help it."  

She watched as he approached the phone again.  She listened as he made flight arrangements.  When he hung up, she watched as he dialed the phone again.  After a moment, he began speaking to Jake about his new 'assignment.'  From listening to Donovan's end of the conversation, she was certain that he wasn't any more thrilled with the idea of guarding her than she was having him as protection.  They argued a few moments before Donovan hung up.  He noticed that Pax was watching him intently.  He truly hated leaving her with anyone else, but he had little choice.  He moved back to his chair by the bed and took her hand in his.

"I know you're less than thrilled with my bringing Jake here to stay with you, but I cannot allow anything else to happen to you, not unless I want to lose my damn mind.  When he gets here, I'm leaving so I can get back as soon as possible.  Promise me you won't do anything crazy.  Promise me that you'll stay put for once.  Promise me so that I can rest.  If I were to lose you now, I can't imagine what would happen to me.  Give me your word, Jonella.  Give it to me now."

"I'll be good," she said, her voice slightly mocking.  She sighed.  "I'm sorry, Frank.  I won't do anything stupid, I promise.  Jake and I will have a grand old time while you're gone.  Perhaps I'll teach him how to play Oh Hell.*  I have to be completely honest here, I never feared death.  At one time, I longed for it, _wanted _it.  But I want something else now.  I'll be good.  I'll do whatever Jake tells me to do…within reason.  Just get your ass back as soon as possible.  Worry goes both ways, you know."

"I know," he told her.  "I love you."

"I love you, too, you witless fuck."

**_____________________******

**To be continued…**

***Oh Hell—This was/is some type of hellishly difficult card game played with two decks and like two sets of die.  After trying to learn how to play it once, I can readily see why it's called Oh Hell!  ****J**        


	12. DNA In Your Face

DNA IN YOUR FACE

Jonella Paxton was not a happy woman.  She had literally begged to be released from the hospital.  She was extremely worried about Donovan.  After tangling with Pat Draper in the loft, she knew the jerk meant business.  However, what was irritating her more than anything was the fact that she had Donovan's junior bulldog 'guarding' her.  She knew he wasn't any more thrilled than she, but she didn't give a fuck.  If she was back to her old self, she might go a round or two with _him_.  They had come to blows a couple of times over the past two days since Donovan had been gone.  He was such a saucy prick.  _Oh, really?  And you're not a saucy prick yourself?  Come on, Pax.  You're tweaking Jakie's nose because you no longer have a nose to tweak.  _Well…that wasn't exactly true.  She could still tweak Donovan's nose when she wanted, but he had ways of punishing her that she didn't care for.  Nope.  Not at all.  She wasn't aware that Donovan was coming down the hall as she was reclining in bed, contemplating throwing a snotty _Kleenex_ at Agent Shaw.

Donovan had only been back in town for about half an hour.  He was jet lagged and irritated.  _No.  I'm more than irritated.  I'm pissed off.  _He wasn't happy that he had had to leave his daughter in Miami.  He wasn't happy that the crazy fuck who killed his ex-wife and her husband had also tried to kill his fiancée.  He was ready to choke Patrick Draper.  As he drew closer to the room, he could hear elevated voices coming from within.  _Dear God, what the hell are they doing_, he thought.  _You know, I'm not that fucking thrilled to be here_, Jake's voice said.  _Oh yeah?  Well, why don't you go outside and stuff your face between some nurse's legs and leave me the fuck alone?  If people need to get scared away, I'll just fucking lie here naked_, Pax's voice retorted.  _That'll surely do it_, Jake snarled.  Donovan didn't know whether to be angry or amused.  He opened the room door just before Jake approached it.  The agent was snarling and slid past Donovan as if he hadn't seen him at all.  When he focused his eyes on Pax, he couldn't keep an amused grin from his lips.  She was sitting up in bed with her arms crossed over her chest.  She was chewing on the inside of her jaw.  If she didn't stop soon, she might need stitches.

As soon as Pax's eyes met Donovan's, her demeanor changed almost instantly.  _Thank fucking God.  _"Glad you're back.  Now if I could just get released out of this hell hole, my life would be complete," she told him with a tired sigh.

He smiled a little and sat down on her bedside.  He reached out and took her hand into his.  It had truly been a long two days.  "I missed you, Jonella."

"Get mushy with me all you want, but please…_please_…get me the fuck out of here first," she said.

*  *  *

Alayna Norwood was not a happy woman.  She had finally gotten the results back from the DNA she and her merry band of police officers had collected.  There was no match.  The hair found near Remy Hilton did not belong to Frank Donovan.  It sure as hell didn't match _anyone_ in her special group of suspects.  She was completely livid.  One thing that Alayna didn't enjoy was being wrong.  She had been more than certain that she would have had enough to make an arrest.  _Not now_.  There was less to connect to the girlfriend.  If she couldn't go for Donovan's jugular, then where the hell was she supposed to turn?  _Shit a brick.  Where am I supposed to go now?  _She had tried calling Donovan a couple of times since she received the bad news, but he had mysteriously gone out of town.  She had heard the girlfriend was shot [_awwwwwww_] and in the hospital.  One of her colleagues had been the first on the scene.  He had told her all about it.  She found herself upset that the shootist hadn't gone for her head.  It was probably the same guy who did Remy and her husband.  _Why oh why couldn't it have been Frank Donovan?  Why oh why am I being punished this way?  Why oh why couldn't it have been his assassin girlfriend?  _She glanced down at her wristwatch.  The hour was growing later by the second.  If she didn't get her ass moving, her plans for the rest of the night would be ruined.  

A look of sheer disgust came across Donovan's face as he made eye contact with Detective Norwood.  He was quite tempted to demand that she leave his home.  What the hell did she want from him now?  His blood?  Semen?  She was responsible for turning his former in-laws against him.  They wanted to take his daughter from him because of her.  His hands ached to go around her throat, but he held back.  He had enough shit to deal with it as it was and he didn't need to have her breathing down his neck even more.  "What is it that you want now, Detective Norwood?"

She smiled a little.  "Come on now, Frank.  Why are you so formal all of a sudden?  You can call me Alayna."  Without waiting to be asked, she elbowed her way inside and waited for him to close the door.  "Wow.  Nice place you have here.  The FBI has been very good to you."  She turned and saw that Donovan was standing by the closed door.  His arms were crossed over his chest.  Apparently, the girlfriend was still in the hospital, because she hadn't heard or seen her yet.  Good.  It would give her an opportunity to play around a little.  Alayna surely liked to play.  "I thought I should come by and pay you a small visit.  I have a few things to tell you."  Again, without being asked, she moved over to the sofa and made herself at home.  "Would you please sit down?  I'd like to speak to you and it's difficult to do so with you standing by the door."

Although he would rather stick an ice pick in his eye, he walked over to a chair near the couch and sat down.  There was an amused look about her and her eyes were sparkling evilly.  She had a bottom line and he had no desire to discover it.  Her actions weren't cute or endearing or even tolerable.  He would give her approximately five minutes to state her case and then he would boot her ass out the door.  "I don't see your gun or your cuffs.  Am I to assume this isn't a business call," Donovan began.  "If it's one of a social nature, I think you're wasting your time.  Your vile words ruined what little relationship I had with my former in-laws.  However, I'm sure you're aware of that.  Pardon my rudeness, Detective, but what the hell do you want?"

She never lost her smile.  "I can attribute that to a bit of over zealousness on my part, Frank," she said, rolling his first name off her tongue as if it were exotic.  She saw that he noticed the shift.  _Good.  Perhaps he will now loosen up just the slightest.  We're alone and that's nice.  _"I do have to admit that I made a hasty mistake, Frank."  

_Frank?  Why the hell is she suddenly calling me Frank?  What the fuck kind of game is she playing now?  _He watched as she brought her body up to its feet.  She slowly approached him.  There was a matching chair to his and she took hold of it and dragged it around to where it was almost in front of him.  With a dawning sense of horror, he realized that she was wearing a low cut black top that revealed quite a bit of her cleavage.  She had a lot to show off.  _Is she coming onto me?  Is this the deal?  _She was very close to him now.  So close that he could smell her perfume.  It wasn't a nice fragrance at all.  It reminded him of a perfume one of his old girlfriends used to wear.  What was it?  Something called _Dark Vanilla_.  The name was a definite misnomer.  It smelled more like strong pipe tobacco.  The one thing he hated more than this woman was fucking tobacco.  It was all over her.

"I'm sorry, but I made a mistake.  We found lots of black hairs on Remy's person and I simply assumed that it belonged to you.  The DNA doesn't match and I wanted to apologize to you in person.  Phone calls are so impersonal, Frank.  Don't you think?  I know I screwed up and that's why I came over here.  I'd like to make things up to you."

Donovan was too stunned by her words to immediately react.  Of course the fucking DNA didn't match.  Why the hell would it?  He was close to opening his mouth and using choice words while he was at it, but something stopped him cold.  The bitch sitting across from him reached out.  Her pale, freckled hand settled on the inside of his thigh.  _What the fuck is she doing?  What the fuck is she thinking?  _She leaned toward him, her poison green eyes half-lidded, and before he could breathe, her lips were on his.  Not only did she smell like tobacco, but she tasted like it as well.  It was sickening.  When her disgusting tongue touched his bottom lip, he was sure he would vomit.

"If you don't get your fucking lips off my fucking man, I'm going to cut them off and fucking feed them to you one at a time."

At the sound of the indignant voice, Alayna backed away.  Goddamn it.  She hadn't known the bitch was here.  Paxton stood on the last step of the staircase.  She seemed sweaty, exhausted, and irritated.  She was leaning on a crutch and her eyes were burning into Alayna.  She didn't think she had ever seen a woman so angry in her life.  Alayna wasn't afraid of the woman.  After all, she was on crutches for God's sake.  Donovan, on the other hand, hadn't turned at all.  His eyes were fixed on Alayna.  She noticed that they had turned black.  Now _he _could do some damage.  However, she didn't think he would kill her.  Alayna didn't know whether to laugh, scream, or cry.  

Pax hated the fucking crutches.  It took forever for her to hobble toward the bitch.  For once in her pathetic life [_or maybe it was two or three times…who counted_] since this whole thing began, her focus wasn't on her or her own feelings.  She was thinking about how this whore had hurt Donovan and his daughter.  She had caused so much pain and destruction in so little time.  What kind of nerve did she have coming into her home [_Well…your loft_] and hitting on her husband [_Well…fiancé, but you might as well call him your fucking husband_]?  Before, she had thought she was an idiot.  But now, she thought Alayna Norwood was a _fucking _idiot.  There _was_ a difference.  She had managed to get to the end of the couch before stopping.  She was a little worn out, but there was no way she would show _any _sign of weakness to the cop.  "You certainly enjoy fiddling with things that you have no right fiddling with, don't you," Pax began.  "I have one good foot, two fists, and a crutch.  Which would like up your ass first?"  Pax was on her way to get the bitch, but Norwood made her escape before she could.  That didn't necessarily deter her.  She started after her, but Donovan reacted and took hold of her arm.  

Pax stopped and turned toward him.  At first, he didn't know what to expect from her.  It was obvious that the woman was feeling him up and she had seen the disgusting kiss.  Of course, she had also seen that he didn't push her away.  It wasn't that he wanted the bitch.  He was simply too goddamn surprised to react.  However, would she buy it?  "Jonella?"

She huffed angrily and hobbled across the room.  Where was the fucking vodka?  Oh yeah.  The bastard got rid of it.  As soon as she could walk normally, she would buy a whole fucking case and pour it down his throat.  Why the hell was she mad at Donovan?  The object of her rage had walked out the door, that's why.  There was nowhere else for her anger to go.  _I am the old Pax again.  I must stop this_.  Although they had been unaware of it, Pax had witnessed almost the entire scene that played out between Donovan and Norwood.  She could have broken it up before the bitch laid one finger on his thigh [**_My _**_fucking thigh on **my **fucking man_], but for some morbid reason, she wanted to see what would happen.  Donovan sat stiff and impersonal while Norwood was touching his thigh.  When she kissed him, he acted as if he were kissing a brick wall.  There was nothing on his face or in his movements but disgust.  It showed her…_finally_ showed her that he truly loved her, _wanted _her.  She remembered the time before Donovan had 'chosen' her.  He had never acted like that when it came to Remy, well, not for a while.  It was weird, as if she were watching the whole thing unfold on television.  She wanted to go back upstairs, but she was tired.  Her adrenaline rush had faded and now it was time to take a pain pill and go to sleep.  Pax collapsed to the couch and noticed that Donovan was still gazing at her questioningly.  Yes, she had heard him call her.  Yes, she knew he was concerned.

"Frank," she retorted.

Donovan approached the couch and sat beside her.  He was all too aware of the crutch resting near her.  At any moment, he expected her to whip it out and beat the living shit out of him.  Did he know what to say?  It was the most awkward moment of his life.  Even admitting to Remy that he had had feelings for Pax so long ago didn't compare.  "What you…"

"What I saw," she began, interrupting him.  "Was nothing.  You don't have to freak out, Frank.  I know she came onto you.  I know that you didn't exactly fight her off, but you didn't want it.  I know it all.  I saw it.  It's not a big fucking deal."

"It is," he insisted.  He could see that she didn't want to talk about this anymore, but there was more.  She rolled her eyes and ran her hand through her unruly hair.  "Jonella, I should have told you this when you first met the detective, but I didn't.  It wasn't important to me until now.  She has, in a way, hit on me before.  It was when I married Remy.  I won't go into specific details, because it was really nothing serious, it didn't go as far as this.  I won't say her entire attitude was ruled by this incident, but I should have told you."

Pax rolled her eyes again.  "Men are so stupid," she grumbled.  "You think you know everything about women, but you know _nothing_.  _Of course_ this ruled her attitude.  Why would she attack my character and me?  Why would she attack her own damn cousin?  Wake up and smell the nasty perfume, Frankie.  I told you she was eyeballing you.  Don't you think women know when another woman wants her man?  I knew the minute I saw her.  I suppose that's why I wanted you to understand that if you wanted an out, you had it."  He started to say something, but she held up her hand.  "Wait.  I know.  I remember what you said.  All I want to say, Frank, is please don't be so stupid when it comes to women.  You're so good at so many things, but you suck at reading women.  You always have.  If you didn't, you would have gotten at me back in the day," she told him with a smile.

"My inability to read women, especially you, is all my fault," he asked with a hint of a smile on his lips.  His eyes were sparkling evilly as his hand came out to gently cup her breast.  His thumb brushed against the nipple, hardening it.  He drew lazy circles around it and said, "I could have used a little help, you know?  You suck as badly as I do."

"Is there something else you need to tell me, Frank," she asked with a smile, her lips very close to his.  She kissed him softly, fluttering her tongue along his lips.  "We can't do it, you horny fucker.  A banged up leg makes it kinda hard."

"I know," he said, returning her kiss.  "But it doesn't mean I can't make love to you at all.  There are other ways that can be just as satisfying."

"So what are you waiting for?  Christmas?"

He smiled.  "Ho ho ho."

*  *  *

Alayna Norwood stomped toward her cruiser.  She wasn't finished yet.  There was still a lot of game left to play.  Donovan had rejected her twice.  The first time, of course, was at Remy's wedding to him three years ago.  It was obvious the little blonde slut had been knocked up.  She walked down the aisle, already showing a little.  She didn't have a hang up about things like that, but it was funny.  Remy was always getting into some kind of trouble.  She had thought that Donovan might be receptive to a little flirtation.  After all, he was having a shotgun wedding, now wasn't he?  She had bumped into him at the reception [on purpose, of course] and pinched his ass.  She would allow his reaction to guide her next move.  Instead of being _grateful _or receptive, he glared at her as if she were a sideshow freak.  So, she had let it slide.  He wasn't into fooling around.  He truly loved her slutty cousin and child-to-be.  Three years later, she attended Remy's second wedding.  She noticed that Donovan had brought along a stork-like woman so unlike anyone she would have thought he would want to be with.  Hell…_she _looked better than this woman.  She reasoned he must have been having some type of rebound fling.  Perhaps she could play around some more.  When she lost her game, she decided to turn on the flirt trick again, and it failed.  God.  What else was there?  She had to get to Paxton someway, somehow.  She stuck her key into the door.  

Before Alayna could open her door, she was grabbed from behind.  She had no time to use her defense maneuvers.  Her attacker's hands were on either side of her head.  Within seconds, he violently whipped her head to the right, and then to the left.  He smiled when he heard the audible crackling noise of bones breaking.  _I love the sound of bones breaking in the morning.  _Wow.  Brilliant.  Nope.  Wait a minute.  He ripped that off from some dumb movie or something.  He allowed her lifeless body to crumple at his feet.  It was time to finish off the girlfriend and then take care of Frank Donovan.  He had a busy night ahead of him and he couldn't waste a moment of it diddling around with a dead woman.  _Maybe I'll come back for her_, he thought with a giggle.

*  *  *

"Frank," Pax whispered.

"Jonella," Donovan whispered sexily against her neck.

"No, you shit.  I'm serious.  I can hear something outside," she said.

Donovan immediately raised his head and looked down at her.  She wasn't bullshitting.  His body tensed and he slowly brought it up to a sitting position.  There was odd electricity in the air.  It was hard to explain exactly what it felt like.  It was a sensation both he and Pax had felt before.  They were under attack.  Any moment now, the enemy would strike.  If either of them bothered looking, they would have probably seen the hair on their arms standing straight up.  Donovan said nothing.  He held up his hand and waved toward her, giving off a clear message:  _stay back_.  This time, she couldn't argue.  She was pretty fucking useless to him.  However, she wouldn't hesitate to conk the fuck with her crutch.  She wasn't stupid enough to reach for the phone.  It would be dead.  Instead, she leaned over and grabbed Donovan's jacket that had been haphazardly slung over the couch.  His cell phone would be in its pocket.  As she dug for it, he reached for his gun.  Completely wired now, Donovan moved as close to the door as possible without actually standing in front of it.  If they were dealing with Pat Draper, he would likely try to spring a surprise trap.  With some type of weird body language, Pax and Donovan communicated totally and completely.  If there had been an actual conversation mapped out, it might have played out something like this:

_Get down._

Pax slowly lowered her body to the floor, taking care not to injure herself any more than she was already injured.  _I am down, goddamn it.  Now do something before **I **have to take him out with my fucking crutch.  Now hit the fucking lights, you moron._

Draper had no desire to hide or sneak in like he did when he had his encounter with the girlfriend.  There was truly no use in it, anyway.  He wanted to finish the job and do so with finesse.  He took out his shiny black semi-automatic, ironically the same semi-auto that had blown out Hilton's brains, and aimed it toward the doorknob.  It would blow off any lock known to man.  

Donovan held his breath as the front door lock gave in under the pressure of the speeding semi-auto discharge.  _This guy is quite the ballsy one, isn't he?  _Donovan's body was stiff and solid against the wall.  He watched as the door came open.  For a moment, he had the greatest urge to shoot first and ask questions later.  Darkly, evilly, he was almost certain that Pax would back him up.  _Of course, Director Trask.  Frank asked him to freeze and drop it before he riddled Draper's body with bullets.  I saw the whole thing._  He counted the seconds as the door began to close.

Draper smiled a little when he stepped into the darkened loft apartment.  He wasn't stupid.  He could see that the girlfriend had hit the floor in a vain attempt to hide from him.  It didn't matter.  He would find her anywhere she was, just like Donovan.  He swung the door closed and aimed his semi-auto toward his target.  It was too easy.  Like shooting fish in a barrel.  _Or strangling cops in their cruisers.  _

"Drop it," Donovan growled.

The other man turned and faced Frank Donovan.  "Very funny, Agent Donovan.  _You _drop it."  He had yet to move the gun away from Pax's prone position on the floor.  "Go ahead and pull the trigger.  Regardless of what you do, I'm going to shoot her again.  Would you rather watch her die or do you prefer dying with her?  I think going together is truly romantic.  What do you think?"

Donovan was readying to blow the fucker away when out of nowhere Pax's crutch flew end over end through the air, hitting Draper in the chest and knocking him back.  Not expecting the sudden move, Donovan was stunned for a moment, but he quickly recovered.  He dove for Draper and was on him within the blink of an eye.  Vaguely, in the background, he heard Pax barking a harsh command:  _Get help, you shitheads.  Draper has your fucking boss on the fucking floor._  When Pax finished with the phone, she tossed it aside and turned her body over to its side.  She began to drag herself toward the two scuffling figures on the floor.  She didn't know what good she was to Donovan, but she thought that if she could reach _somebody's _weapon, she could end it right now.  She had just begun making good progress toward the two men when a shot rang out, immediately filling the room with deafening silence and stillness.  

"_FRANK_," Pax screamed.

**____________________**

**To be continued…**  


	13. Miami

MIAMI

It had been a long two months with neither thinking the other was actually going to live to see this day.  It mattered very little.  They were together, cramped into a tiny bed.  The shot that had rang out into the darkened apartment had done nothing to Frank Donovan.  However, it had given Patrick Draper one hell of a hole in his stomach.  The sickie lived through it, as sickies often do.  But he wouldn't see the light of day as a free man ever again.  Donovan had had it after that.  It was time for a break…a long one.  He had a billion hours of leave time coming to him and he greedily took as much as his superiors would allow.  They had gone to Miami together, basically just to retrieve Stasia.  However, once they arrived, they couldn't leave.  Although it had taken Donovan's parents a bit to warm up to Pax, they were thrilled to hear that the two were actually ready to set a wedding date.  They intended to stay with the elder Donovan's no longer than three days.  They wound up staying eight weeks.  And now, tonight, they were stuffed together in bed.  The evening had started innocently enough.  They had had dinner with Anneliese and Kane, put Stasia to bed, and then retired.  Of course, one thing led to another, and they wound up making love, but they couldn't help it.  It had been one hell of a rough ride for them both.  No pun intended, of course.

However, unlike every other time she made love with Donovan, Pax didn't immediately move away.  She let him hold her for so long a time that she felt her limbs growing numb.  But that was okay, too.  She made a soft noise in her throat when she felt Donovan moving beside her.  They were both on their sides.  Any other position wouldn't do.  They could have picked a hotel with a gigantic bed, but they hadn't wanted to do that, either.  Strangely, this bed meant something to them.  Both were surprised that it was actually still holding together.  They had truly given it some workouts lately.  Pax felt his hand moving to her hair, and a moment later, he moved it away from her ear.  He placed a gentle kiss on it and then nibbled delicately on her earlobe.  She thought he might leave her alone, but that was a stupid thought.  He _never _left her alone.  His lips ventured to her throat as his hand slid down the length of her body.  Oh.  He was such a sorry bastard to do this to her.  Didn't he think once tonight was enough?  _Duh, Pax.  You're really stupid sometimes.  Does he ever think it's enough?  _Ah hell.  She didn't mind.  Not really.  She turned her head just the slightest so his mouth could cover hers.  Oh his lips.  His wonderful lips.  He could do so much with them.  She could feel the hardening ridge of him against her buttocks.  During their kiss, she reached around behind her and encircled him, beginning a gentle caress.  

He broke the kiss and chuckled deeply within his throat.  "You bitch," he said.

"Do you expect me to be anything _but _a bitch?"

"Nope," he told her.  "You drive me crazy, but I love you."

She shifted positions ever so slightly and turned to face him.  "I love you, too."

He kissed her again and ran his hands down her naked back, cupping her buttocks, squeezing them.  She could feel the hard ridge of him against her and it wouldn't take very many moves for him to come inside.  Of course, she wasn't exactly fighting against that thought, but still…tonight it just felt…different.  She broke away from his possessive and demanding kiss.  His brown eyes, darkened even more by his passion, were clouded with confusion.  She could almost read what he was thinking:  _Don't tease me.  Please don't tease me_.  But of course she would.  If she didn't, she wouldn't quite be Jonella Paxton, now would she?  She wanted to take her time, to relish every moment of this.  Morning [and Stasia and the elder Donovan's] would come much too soon.  She ran her hand along his arm until it fell upon one of his.  She moved it away from her scrawny ass and backed away just a little.

"Jonella, what are you doing," he finally asked.  He wasn't an idiot.  He knew what she was doing, she was teasing him and she knew it.  

Pax said nothing, only smiled at him.  After a moment, she pressed her lips against his with just enough pressure to drive him out of his mind.  Her hand fell upon him again, stroking ever so gently.  His breathing quickened ever so slightly and a very soft groan, almost undetectable, left him.  Almost going by instinct, she stopped and drew her hand away, leaving him ready to beg for more.  She backed away again, remembering that the bed was a tiny, dinky thing, and not their super-sized futon.  One false move and she would fall to the floor.  She didn't think it would shatter the moment, but would give Donovan the upper hand.  The fucker would pounce.  She didn't want him to pounce…yet.  She allowed him to kiss her, but only a little kiss, before she drew away completely.  Donovan watched, mystified, as she brought her body up to her feet.  What the hell was she doing?  She ran her fingers through her incredible mane of hair and stretched as if she were getting up for the day.

"You don't intend to leave me like this, do you," he asked, an incredulous look on his face.

She smiled at him.  "Maybe.  Maybe not."

Pax turned her back on him and grabbed her robe [never intending on leaving the room at all].  Within nanoseconds, Donovan was off the bed, his body pressed against hers.  "Don't you dare," he said as he drew her hair away from her shoulder.  "Don't you dare step out of this room until morning, maybe never."  His lips went to the side of her throat and placed moist kisses along it, progressing slowly to her shoulder.  

As his hands slid down to her waist, a soft moan left _her_.  Jerk.  He was as good at pushing her buttons as she was at pushing his.  But he could push them ever so much better.  Oh yes he could.  He pulled her up against him, her buttocks connecting nicely with his hardness.  She wanted to turn and go back to the bed, but the moment she tried to move, she heard a distinct 'uh uh' leaving his lips.  Okay.  She wouldn't argue with him too much.  He gently pushed her to the door.  _Oh Jesus, here we go again_.  Tomorrow, when she could think coherently, she was going to ask him why he had an affinity for having sex up against doors.  She found herself wondering if the door was closed tightly or if it would rattle in its frame.  It didn't matter.  His parents weren't idiots.  They knew what was going on here.  He left enough space between her and the door so she could lean her hands on it.  One of his hands slid down between her legs while the other guided her face to his.  He kissed her deeply while his hand drove her out of her mind.  God.  What was he doing to her?  _He's loving you, you fucking idiot.  Now stop thinking and let him get to it._  He broke the kiss, but his touch never let up.  Oh, the bastard had finally gotten the upper hand for once.  What started out as her game swiftly became his.  Oh well.  It wasn't like she didn't have other opportunities to make him suffer.  Sure.  Let him win this one.

"Jonella, do you trust me," he asked, his voice falling into her ear.

What kind of question was that?  She was on the verge of a mind-bending orgasm and he wanted to talk trust?  "Hmm," she moaned, biting her lip.  "I do."

"Good," he said.  "I wouldn't want you to think I'd let you fall."

She had been right in the middle of opening her mouth to ask him what the hell he meant, but he answered her without a word.  His hand immediately stopped torturing her.  Quickly, abruptly, he entered her from behind.  She arched her back just the slightest and pressed her hands more firmly against the door.  He moved within her slowly.  Oh God, he was good.  He was so good, and goddamn it he was _hers_.  How did she wind up so damn lucky?  His grip tightened on the sides of her hips, but he never picked up the pace.  God.  If he could see her face, he would laugh himself into an early grave.  Her expressions changed from rapture to torture to bliss and then back to rapture again.  _Maybe I'm **glad** he **can't **see me.  _If she attempted moving against him to push things along faster, he'd simply tighten his grip.  Oh.  She understood.  Mr. Donovan wanted to take control.  But that was okay.

At her climax, she told him she loved him, and would tell him she did every day of her life.  And if she didn't tell him, she would show him.  When his body stilled with his release, she felt tears coming to her eyes.  She couldn't believe how mushy she had become.  What amazed her most was that she couldn't believe how she had pushed him away time and time again, how she had nearly lost him.  All those years.  All that time.  She had been a fool, a stupid damn fool.  He had opened her eyes and she never wanted to shut them again.  After a very long moment, their bodies disconnected only to connect again as his lips took hers.  They moved back toward the tiny bed and fell into it.

Donovan leaned over her, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand.  "I clearly remember the last time we were in this bed together, pretending to be newlyweds," he said with a smile.

She returned his smile and then held out her left hand.  She gazed at the white gold wedding band adorning her ring finger, its mate encircling Donovan's.  She had moved the silver band to her right hand.  "I'm glad we no longer have to fake it, aren't you?"

"Very much so, Jonella…Donovan."

**____________________**

**Finis…**              


End file.
